


Handle With Grace

by pbmolecules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Adventure, Badass!Cas, Band of Brothers feel to this fic, Camping, Cat Cas, Cat!!Castiel, Epic, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fellowship vibe, Fighting, Grace!sex, Happy Ending, Horseback Riding, Horses, M/M, Magic, Major character death that you get to travel with and I will fix I promise!, Monsters, Mpreg, Nephilim, Post Apocalypse, Purgatory, Quest, Sex, Show level violence, Sigils, Slow Burn, Smut, The Colt - Freeform, Wing Kink, Wing!sex, Wingfic, Wings, Yes I put those two together on purpose (no major deaths are permanent), badass!Dean, badassery, few battle scenes, lots of cameos, mentions of mpreg, nephilim!Castiel, spells, sword fights, there will be character deaths, tons of show locations, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 217,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pbmolecules/pseuds/pbmolecules
Summary: Fantasy AU.  Our world is rebuilding itself from the aftermath of an apocalypse, resulting in a very different order to things.  Angels are gone, the only trace left of them is the planet’s devastation, the lineage they left behind in their Nephilim children, and fables most humans don’t even believe anymore.  That is, until Gabriel is pulled into a war, sending Castiel three countries away to warn them, only to leave him stranded there with no way to get back.Castiel finds trouble of his own, trying to steal a spell from a witch.  Cursed, he is forced to find a way back to Gabriel by tagging along with a group of humans.  He does not understand their customs, but he likes them much more than he ever expected.Castiel had one job - deliver a message to John Winchester.  Who knew one simple task would take him worlds away, through many challenges, and change his life forever?  Not even Gabriel saw that coming.
Relationships: Bobby/Ellen, Destiel, John/Kate, Sabriel - Relationship, Sam/Gabriel, charlie/jo
Comments: 538
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural. This apocalypse world is my own, along with sigil customs.  
> This is my first real world building epic type story to share. I hope you guys dig in and enjoy! It’s a bit explanation heavy in the first chapter. After that, it moves along quickly!

Prologue:  
  
The apocalypse was...well...apocalyptic. Zachariah and Raphael were instrumental in letting Lucifer out of his cage and pitting Michael against him.  
  
The battle between them changed the face of the world.  
  
Angels battling on Earth’s surface, full of self-righteousness and rage, had little to no care for the 9+ billion humans living on it. Cities and countries fell like tinder to the flames of war the giant angels fought. Mountains, flattened. Oceans, upheaved. Continents were torn, dismantled, sunk, and burned.   
  
In all the chaos, some creatures survived. Their super strength and speed gave them better chance of survival than the humans. But humanity survived as well.  
  
God put a stop to the fight. He closed heaven. Closed Hell. Cut his angels off, leaving them crippled and stranded in the mess they had made.  
  
Hundreds of years later, the world, as it does, kept turning, bringing with it new growth and a new day. The oceans are full of vile creatures, making crossing them extremely dangerous. There is only one string of land formations that have survived.  
  
At the top of the world is The Empty, where the angels finally killed each other into extinction.  
  
Under The Empty is Haven, where the children of the Angels live, mostly cut off from humans. They thrive in four grand cities, led by the most elite among them, calling them Mages. There are seven Mages, nephilim of the Angels of old. With each generation, their longevity and grace become weaker and weaker.  
  
The Sunken Ties separates Haven from the large, wild country of Purgatory, where monsters and demons who were topside and survived God’s extinction of Hell and Purgatory had gathered to live how they saw fit. Mostly wild, there are towns where demons have order, werewolves roam the great forests, and vampires move in packs like thugs. Humans rarely live there.  
  
Separated by ocean, several days by ship, is the small country known as Freeland, where humans and monsters have lived together in relative harmony.  
  
Beneath Freeland, two days by ship, lies the country of Lawrence. This is where humans have put down roots. They weed out any monsters or demons that dare step foot on their land. And Angels or their children are little more than children’s fairytales.  
  
There are some smaller island countries, like Britland, who have their own governments but trade with the humans from Lawrence.  
  
Because an agreement was met stay separated, the oceans are so difficult to cross, and creatures rarely trust ones that are not like themselves, the division between Haven, Purgatory, and Lawrence is so absolute that each country knows little about the other.   
  
They have lived their separate existences for hundreds of years. But history has a way of repeating itself. And when the children of angels start to meddle in the lives of humans and monsters, sides are taken, and lines are drawn anew.   
  
There is no one to step in and save them now. They will have to save themselves.   
  
  


Chapter 1. Tree of Thrones  
  
  
Castiel strode across the wide courtyard, determination and frustration exuding from his very countenance. He was getting tired of Gabriel summoning him. But when a Mage called, no one made them wait. Even a new Mage, such as himself. He jogged up the wide granite steps that led to the east wing. The wide, sweeping balustrades framed the stairs like flower petals.   
  
When he had arrived here at Gabriel’s palace in Tree of Thrones, Michael and Gabriel’s city, three months ago, he had marveled at every whimsical topiary and every massive column. The Mage of Monday was flamboyant and playful in his architecture. Now, the spires, bright colors, topiaries, fountains, columns, and statues were merely markers directing him where to go.  
  
His attending abettors in their turquoise robes, jogged quickly to keep up with him in what seemed like an endless hallway. He stopped at the double doors that stood open on the second-floor suite of music rooms.  
  
The Hand at the door bowed to him quickly, stepped backwards and announced his presence.  
  
“Did I not summon him?” Gabriel asked, crossly.  
  
“Yes, Mage Gabriel,” the Hand bowed deeply.  
  
“Then send him in!”  
  
Castiel gave the Hand a more courteous nod as he entered the large room. Gabriel was not much for traditional formalities, unlike Michael. Though his Hands and abettors did try to keep a semblance of structure around him.  
  
“What do you think, Cassie?”  
  
Castiel stopped just inside the doorway, watching Gabriel as he levitated three giant ferns, making them dance and bob about the room. Gabriel laughed as one began to hover just over Castiel’s abettor, Rachel’s, head.  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel said firmly, “what did you need to see me for?” He stared at the Mage with barely masked impatience.  
  
The ferns whizzed back to their baskets on the balcony as the amused look drained from Gabriel’s face. “Leave us,” he said sharply. Every abettor in the room jumped and headed for the door.  
  
Castiel swallowed hard. He was summoned to Tree of Thrones, the most northern of the great cities, when he was given his new seat as Mage of the Thursday Legion. His predecessor, Kassiel, had died of old age. Castiel, one of the 10 abettors to Kassiel, had the most grace, making him the next in line for the job. Castiel’s relatively young age and little experience meant nothing to his ascension. He had the most grace out of anyone else in their Legion, making him rightful heir to the Mage seat.  
  
All nephilim were born with their grace warded, an inherited curse from their angelic ancestors, to dampen the bright and shining creatures their ancestors were. Wards, and the grace the wards sealed, varied slightly amongst them. They all had the capability to use their grace to some degree. But the most powerful were able to break their own wards and tap into the grace that made them so different from humans and monsters. The seven great mages were able to break wards the others could not even sense. For nephilim, the higher wards were not even present because the powers were simply no longer there. Each generation grew weaker. Castiel was still new to his higher grace powers and had come here seeking training and enlightenment in how to use them. Every nephilim was encouraged to use their grace for growing food, completing menial labor, and taking care of their self and their property. Castiel had a knack for growing food with abundance. From an early age, he had done simple tasks such as lighting fires, preparing meals, cleaning, and such everyday tasks with simple ease. He had single-handedly repopulated Haven with honeybees again. A Hand noted his ample grace when he was only fifteen years old. Most nephilim only began showing sparks of grace power at age thirteen. Castiel had been preparing full meals since he was ten.  
  
His time as abettor to Kassiel had been full of work. As one of the Mages’ elite, he was saddled with settling disputes and managing details in Tree of Knowledge, where his people lived. Kassiel had never given Castiel any special direction, even though he was aged and knew Castiel was by far the abettor with the most grace. Therefore, he was seeking what knowledge he could get from the other six mages. But Gabriel had sought him out, extended an invitation for him to stay in Tree of Thrones to learn. So far, he had only learned that Gabriel was a mystery and Michael was a wall. Gabriel taught the oddest lessons. Michael taught none.  
  
“How are you enjoying Thrones, Castiel?” Gabriel asked flatly, pulling a music book off one of the shelves. He opened it to a particular song with the wave of his hand.  
  
Castiel had not come to Thrones to ‘enjoy himself’. He knew very well why Gabriel had asked him to come. Gabriel wanted him to move his entire Legion to Thrones, instead of where they were currently residing, at Tree of Knowledge.  
  
“Thrones is a beautiful land. But appearances are not what I am seeking.”  
  
Gabriel sat down in front of the book, snapping his fingers. Five instruments raised from their stands across the room and began playing a song.  
  
Castiel watched, wondering if he could do such a thing. He knew several songs. Maybe he would try it later. For now, his steady eyes moved back to Gabriel.  
  
“Thrones is a beautiful land.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at Castiel as the song played on. “I have lived here all my life and don’t plan on moving my Legion.”  
  
“Of course,” Castiel nodded. Michael and Gabriel’s Legions had been sharing this land for hundreds of years.   
  
“Castiel, your Legion is one of the most unpredictable. The Legion of Thursday moved between the Trees many times over the last 600 years.” Gabriel’s honey brown eyes settled on him like a weight. “You know why I brought you here.”  
  
Castiel nodded. With his command, Castiel’s entire Legion would move to Tree of Thrones. But he was more than hesitant to take such an action.  
  
“Do you know this song?” Gabriel asked in a lighter tone, the volume increasing a bit as the instruments hovered in their corner, playing.  
  
Castiel furrowed his brow in thought. “I believe so. It is about Haven. About the Trees.” He listened closely, waiting for the chorus again. Yes, it was the Tree Maker song. “It’s about growing The Great Trees in Haven. When our ancestors left The Garden.”  
  
“Mm,” Gabriel nodded. “Good.” The volume softened and Gabriel got to his feet, pacing across the room and back. “During the Apocalypse, when the angels Michael and Lucifer destroyed the world, God shut the whole show down, and left. The angels fell to Earth and lost their wings. Their grace changed, making them more like humans. They could die. From nothing more than old age. They lived for a couple hundred years in The Garden. Punished forever to become more and more like humans, with every generation weaker than the one before.”  
  
Castiel shifted his weight, frowning. Why was Gabriel giving him a history lesson that every nephilim knew by the age of five?   
  
“Punished or not, the angels began to bicker and fight amongst themselves. Michael took his Legion of followers north and grew The Tree of Thrones. Michael’s followers, the Legion of Sunday now, has never left Thrones. He was the boss,” Gabe grinned. “The Eldest. The one in charge. But Lucifer could never follow him. Not after living in the cage for centuries. He was out and never going back, weakened or not. So, he took his few followers and grew The Tree of Knowledge in the east.”  
  
“Gabriel, I know Haven’s history,” Castiel said quietly, watching his pacing with growing frustration.  
  
Gabriel stopped at a small table and took a handful of sweetbeans in his hand. They were a Legion of Monday specialty, growing on the thick, furry sweetbean bushes all over the north and west fields of Haven.  
  
“Just listen. And for the love of a great mansion, sit down.”  
  
Castiel bowed his head slightly. He might be a Mage, but he was no match for the likes of Gabriel.  
  
“So,” Gabriel went on, “Now Haven has The Garden, the Tree of Thrones, and the Tree of Knowledge. And now old Gabriel is feeling pissy, because his brothers have lands of their own. Lucifer is...well, evil. Michael is...well, a dick. So Gabriel takes his merry band of followers and grows the Tree of Life. And there we have it.”  
  
“And The Empty,” Castiel said quietly.  
  
Gabriel turned, looking at him. “No, not so fast. For hundreds of years the angels ruled in the four Legions. Thrones, Knowledge, The Garden, and Life. Then Lucifer started the War of Trees. All the great angels died fighting Lucifer way up north. They either killed each other or died up there alone. Either way, Haven was a ruin. That’s how we got The Empty. A great big frozen wasteland of death, thanks to Lucifer.”  
  
“After Lucifer’s death, things calmed down. But by then, the angels understood if they hadn’t died in battle, they were doing something new.” His eyes met Castiel’s. “Aging. Dying. So, what do you do when you find out your people are dying?!”  
  
Castiel frowned, not sure what he was getting at.  
  
“You breed!” Gabriel said. “Angels can’t make babies. But lo’ and behold, angels and humans can make babies! Bam! Here come all the nephilim. A shade less angely every generation.”  
  
He stopped his pacing, facing a large tapestry on the wall that held the seven symbols of the seven Legions.  
  
“So, life went on and the poor little nephilim bastards try to carry on life like their parents did. The strongest seven took their angel parent’s name and they split the nephilim again.”  
  
Castiel looked at the tapestry, following Gabriel’s gaze.  
  
“Michael’s Legion, Legion of Sunday,” he pointed at the sword.  
“Gabriel’s Legion, Legion of Monday,” he pointed at the trumpet.  
“Raphael’s Legion, Legion of Tuesday, who came from Lucifer,” he pointed at the fish.  
“Uriel’s Legion, Legion of Wednesday, who came from Lucifer,” he pointed at the flames.  
He glanced back at Castiel, “I’ll come back to you, Mr. Thursday.”  
  
Castiel sighed.  
  
“Raguel’s Legion, Legion of Friday, from Gabriel,” he pointed at the loaf of bread.  
“And Barachiel Legion, Legion of Saturday, from Gabriel,” he pointed to the lightning bolt.  
  
Gabriel stepped back, looking across the seven symbols again. “So, everything is settling into place. The whiners and worriers stay at The Garden, doing nothing but collect the occasional human for mating, and keeping the rest of the humans and all the monsters out. Which they act like it’s a big deal, but we all know they’re just lazy bastards.”  
  
Castiel frowned.  
  
“Meanwhile, Legions of Sunday and Monday (Michael and Gabriel) join in Thrones to rule and keep law and basically act like bosses. The Legions of Tuesday and Wednesday (Raphael and Uriel) stay in Knowledge, acting like dicks and being a nuisance. And no one signed up under the absentee Lucifer anymore. At least they were that smart.”  
  
Castiel crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“Legions of Friday and Saturday (Raguel and Barachiel) stayed in Life. They don’t do shit but party and act like every day is their last. Idiots.”  
  
Castiel sat up a fraction straighter as Gabriel moved over to the symbol of the arrow.   
  
“And then there was Thursday. It’s always fucking Legion of Thursday. All three cities have two Legions. Everyone is settled, right? No. Fucking Thursday is all over the fucking map.”  
  
Castiel stood up. “You act as though I am the one who could not make up his mind. Like I am the one who changed allegiances. Those were my predecessors, Gabriel.”  
  
“Look,” Gabriel said, walking back over to the table and snapping his fingers, all the instruments returning to their stands, “I know all of us nephilim, are all cheaper and cheaper copies of the angels that once disappointed God. But this is who we are now. We’re a bunch of half human, half angels with disgraced graces. But Legion of Thursday, with all its temperance and patience, is constantly changing teams.”  
  
Gabriel was angry. But Castiel could not truly be sure why he was angry. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I come from a long line of nephilim who seek the truth. Leaders change. Legion or land be damned. It’s the people at the helm that make a Legion, Gabriel. Not its past. Not entirely, anyway.”  
  
“Spoken like a true vagabond,” Gabriel sighed, standing toe to toe with him.  
  
Gabriel and Michael, true sons of their namesakes, were the most powerful Mages on Earth. Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Barachiel, and he were descendants of their namesakes as well, but their powers were weaker. But the counsel of seven was supposed to protect Haven from being at the mercy of something like Michael and Lucifer ever again. There was no directive stating a Legion had to stay in a certain realm. He knew history and law.  
  
“If this is your argument to coax Legion of Thursday back to Thrones -”  
  
“No,” Gabriel cut him off. “This is just the backstory, Castiel, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son.”  
  
Castiel balked at the full title. He had only been Mage for a year. His time as one of the ten abettors for Kassiel had been spent largely roaming the countryside, managing the bees, and handling crop issues. While he knew law and history, politics was not a skill he possessed, nor desired. He failed to understand how he had gotten to this station. He had more grace than most. And that seemed to be all that mattered to anyone in charge.  
  
“Then why have you asked me here, to Thrones?” Castiel asked patiently. Though Gabriel tried his patience, he knew him to be a good leader. Kind to his people and fair when settling disputes.  
  
Gabriel finally tore his eyes away, walking back to the music book, flipping a few pages to a new song. “Did you know Kassiel very well?” He asked quietly.  
  
Castiel glanced around the room. “Not well. I know his predecessor moved the Legion of Thursday from here to Knowledge 158 years ago.”  
  
“And?” Gabriel asked.  
  
“And they have a lot of questions,” Castiel said quietly.  
  
“Of course they do,” Gabriel grinned. “They’re broody Thursdays.”  
  
Castiel frowned. “It sounds as though the only Legions you have any respect for are yours and Michael’s.”  
  
“Ah, you wound me, brother Mage. That isn’t true at all. However, you have to know that you are captain of a landless crew.” His stare was intense. Intense enough that he could see the spark of grace brewing in his eyes in a golden glow. The light shifted, dulling to his own certain stare with a blink.  
  
Castiel licked his dry lips and looked at the tapestry. “I have a lot to learn, Gabriel. And that is why I came when you called. I thought you could teach me.” He turned back to the man he had so hoped he could call brother and mean it. “But I can see your intentions are quite steeped in judgment and resentment for men of the past. I am not Kassiel. And I am not your lap dog either.”  
  
Gabriel searched his eyes. He grinned slowly, making the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck rise. “I think I might just like you, Cassie.”  
  
“My Legion is not for sale.”  
  
“I can see that.”  
  
Castiel sighed. “I’ll leave in the morning.”  
  
Gabriel stepped back, finally, turning to go back to his book of music. He flipped to a page with a wave and snapped. A piano began to play an upbeat melody. “And who will teach you the final Mage powers? Raphael? Uriel?”  
  
Both Mages were powerful with certain things. Being his allies, living in the same city, he had already gone to them for help. Raphael had healing powers that were far superior to anyone Castiel had met or heard of. His people were the only ones capable of cleaning fish from the cursed oceans. Uriel could control fire with ease. Truth be told, he had sought them out immediately upon gaining his seat. And he had mastered flame quite easily. He had not taken to large and furious displays like Uriel, but he was familiar now with the power of flame and how to both summon and suppress it.  
  
Raphael had proven stingier with his grace. He had great healing capabilities. But he used it like a tool to wield over his people. He gave Castiel some scrolls about healing, but they were practically useless.   
  
He had learned more in the Stacks with the guidance of Metatron. The Stacks was the world’s largest library. While Metatron had taught him how to use his grace to speed read and write, Castiel found the process daunting. So, when Gabriel called, Castiel had come with high hopes.  
  
Hiding his aspirations from Gabriel seemed pointless. He let his shoulders droop and sat heavily in the chair. “I’ve learned all I can from them already.”  
  
“Really?” Gabriel quirked a grin. He lifted a hand, setting the long periwinkle drapes afire.  
  
Castiel jumped up, eyes wide with shock as the curtains on all eight large windows were suddenly on fire.  
  
He lifted his hands, summoning the oxygen from the air around the flames. The flames died instantly. “Gabriel!”  
  
Gabriel rolled with laughter. “Your face! That was hilarious!”  
  
“Gabriel! This isn’t funny!”  
  
“Uuuhhh,” Gabriel sighed, grinning at Castiel. “That was quite enlightening.”  
  
“How!” Castiel demanded, sick of Gabriel and his tricky words and games.  
  
“One, your fire powers are impressive. Two, you care for others before yourself. Three, and this is a big one, you have no fear of yelling at me.” Gabriel gave him an impressed look. “Me.”  
  
Castiel blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that...I want to be a good Mage. But...you are not taking me seriously.”  
  
“Oh, little brother,” Gabriel grinned. “I’m taking you very seriously.”  
  
Chills ran down Castiel’s arms, nonetheless he huffed. “I arrived here three MONTHS ago. I left my Legion. I left half my abettors in charge. My own people barely know me! I have the wrath of Uriel and Raphael to return to. And for what? You summon me to play games and listen to music! You throw lavish parties and use your grace for the most frivolous things when you could be helping other nephilim! Or humans!”  
  
Gabriel watched him with a growing excitement. He snapped his fingers and Castiel felt something inside him release. He blinked and tried with all his might to figure out if Gabriel was angry, amused, playing a trick on him, or just what exactly was happening.  
  
“What did you do to me?” Castiel gasped, putting a hand to his chest.  
  
“Did it hurt?” Gabe asked with an excited grin.  
  
Castiel swallowed. “No.”  
  
“Good. This might.” He snapped again.  
  
A hot, searing pain split two gaping holes into his back. Castiel dropped onto his knees, crying out in pain.  
  
The doors at the end of the room burst open, four of Castiel’s abettors rushing in.  
  
Gabriel waved a hand, all the abettors were sucked out of the room in a whoosh, the doors slamming closed again.  
  
Castiel gasped and screamed again as something huge rippled under his skin and pulled through the holes in his back. “GABRIEL! PLEASE!”  
  
The granite floor under him vibrated violently and Castiel thought surely he would throw up or pass out. His entire back felt ripped open. There was a strange blue light to everything, and hot lightning zapped through his body in random places, making him jerk and twitch. He gasped and panted and huddled face down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest.  
  
Gabriel was killing him.  
  
He planted one hand on the floor, seething with anger and pain. He looked up at Gabriel.  
  
“Whoa there, flyboy.”  
  
Castiel raised his other hand, opening his palm in an automatic response. He could feel power flowing through him like never before.  
  
“Hey!” Gabriel yelled, raising a hand.  
  
A white-blue light, brighter than the noonday sun, shot out of his palm, caught by Gabriel’s own grace, power shooting from his own palm. The streams locked and both men flew backwards in a blow so hard they left holes in the fine plaster walls they slammed into.  
  
Castiel gasped. His vision was back to normal, but his head was ringing. He tried to get to his knees. Gabriel was already on his feet, both hands out in a protective shield.   
  
“Holy shit!” Gabriel laughed, coming across the room carefully.  
  
“Stop,” Castiel panted. “Please.”  
  
Castiel got himself into a crouched sitting position. His back felt completely exposed. And something strange and large pulled inside him, making him wince and gasp for air.  
  
“Whoa there,” Gabriel whispered, coming to him slowly.  
  
“What did you do to me?” Castiel cried, tears running down his cheeks hotly. He teetered to the side and Gabriel steadied him, crouching down in front of him.  
  
Castiel looked up. Gabriel looked...happy.  
  
“I broke two of your wards,” Gabriel whispered.  
  
“I - I still have...wards?”  
  
“Yeah. Well, you only have a few now. But that was the worst one, I promise.”  
  
“But...” Castiel looked out to the side, seeing a long, mass of black draped over his shoulder. It ran all the way over to the wall. He jerked, seeing it move and feeling something very strange pull inside him.  
  
Gabriel clamped his hands on both his shoulders, steadying him.  
  
Gabriel ran his thumbs over Castiel’s cheeks, wiping the tears away. “Castiel,” Gabe whispered reverently. “I gave you your wings.”  
  
Castiel gasped, standing, Gabriel standing with him. He stumbled back a step, turning to find the source of the giant wings draped over his shoulders. They arched high and he gasped at the pain inside his body.  
  
“Here, let me -” Gabriel touched two fingers to Castiel’s forehead. A surge of warm relief flooded his body. The skin on his back crawled with an almost ticklish sensation, followed by a burst of cool relief. The smell of Frankincense filled his nostrils and the pain was gone.  
  
Castiel looked at Gabriel in utter shock. “What...I...I don’t understand!”  
  
“Look,” Gabriel grinned. He waved a hand, turning the long wall in front of him into a huge mirror.  
  
Castiel’s jaw dropped as he saw himself. He stood taller as Gabriel stepped back. Inky black wings stretched out from behind him. He flexed the strange new muscles in his back and sides and watched in awe as the wings lifted. Blue light crept into his vision again and he could see his own eyes glow. His wings arched up. He blinked a few times, seeing the light fade back to his normal eyes. “This is...impossible. It’s a trick.”  
  
“No trick,” Gabriel said seriously. “When nephilim are born, they’re born with the wards God left on the angels. Or at least the ones that have passed down weakly. You have all the good ones. But lots of them can be broken. Some you break on your own. Others, like wings, are only for Mages with great power.”  
  
The words sunk in as Castiel stared at the gently moving wings in the mirror. “Why don’t we all have them?”  
  
“Most don’t have them anymore. If you make it to the rank of Mage, then we can unbreak your wards to see if there is any power to them. Looks like you got plenty of juice. And besides, it maintains control. If anyone could break their wards, we’d have problems like our ancestors did. Only a trusted few can handle so much power.”  
  
Castiel turned to Gabriel with confusion. “I thought you didn’t even like me, let alone trust me.”  
  
“I’ve been studying you, Cassie. Those weren’t just games and parties. I was watching you to see who you truly are.”  
  
Castiel thought back to all the games and situations that had come up since he had arrived here. There was a LOT more to Gabriel than the partier and trickster he had thought him to be.  
  
“I have big plans for you, Castiel, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son.”  
  
Castiel swallowed hard. He looked back at his reflection. “Can I...fly? Like a bird?”  
  
“No,” Gabriel grinned. “Not like a bird. It’s more like...you picture where you want to be and then you send yourself there.”  
  
Castiel thought about this, flexing his wings. They weren’t solid. He reached up to touch one, but his hand went through it, to his own shoulder.  
  
“We’ll never have wings like the angels did,” Gabriel said softly. “Those were taken forever. But you can send yourself places.”  
  
“It felt like they were inside me. Under my skin, in my body. They...pulled out of me.”  
  
“You’re a true nephilim, Castiel. Much more angel than human. Your grace is strong. Your powers will be...massive.”  
  
“Do all the Mages have wings?” He asked, turning to marvel at the sleek, black feathers.  
  
“Michael. Me. And now you.”  
  
Castiel’s gaze snapped back to Gabriel. “But...I’m not as powerful as you!”  
  
Gabriel laughed. “No. But you’re a damn lot closer than anyone has been in a long time.”  
  
“What does this mean? How do I fly? Or...go? How do I use them?”  
  
“Do you trust me?” Gabriel asked, no sign of joking or ill-intent on his handsome face.  
  
“I do,” Castiel whispered back.  
  
Gabriel held his hand out. Castiel stared at it dumbly for a moment and then took it with a firm grip.  
  
“I want you to think about staying with me. Envision it in your mind.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Alright.”  
  
Gabriel closed his eyes, dropping his chin a fraction. Huge black wings appeared out of nowhere, flexing out and back as Gabriel took a deep breath. He opened his eyes, pinning Castiel’s. “Stay with me.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He heard a loud flutter, focused on Gabriel’s face, and gripped his hand tightly.  
  
A pulling sensation from the center of his belly yanked him back. Before he could catch his breath, his feet hit ground and he stumbled forward.  
  
They were outside, atop a large, grassy hill overlooking Tree of Thrones.  
  
“How?” He looked around in puzzled shock. “That was incredible!”  
  
Gabriel grinned triumphantly. “Magic! Grace! Whatever you want to call it. But don’t even think about trying to use them on your own. You are nowhere near ready.”  
  
“Okay! I won’t try anything. Promise.”  
  
The wind lifted his hair and the pair stretched their wings. Castiel could feel the wind blow through his hair, but nothing touched his wings. He grinned at the stretch and flapped them as hard as he could.  
  
“They’re in another plane. They’ll never be ours again. But we can use the power of them to get to certain places.”  
  
“Only certain places?” Castiel asked, all curiosity as he experimentally moved them.  
  
“I gave them to you, so you can get anywhere in Tree of Thrones. Your Legion is tied to Tree of Knowledge, so they should work there too.”  
  
“Nowhere else in Haven?”  
  
Gabriel shook his head.  
  
“Can I go see humans or monsters?”  
  
Gabriel lifted a brow in surprise. “What for?”  
  
“To see them! To see the world!”  
  
Gabriel laughed. “I knew you were something special!”  
  
“I’m a Mage!” Castiel laughed, feeling freer than he had ever felt in his life.  
  
“That, you are, Cassie!” He shook his head. “You can’t go to Purgatory. It’s warded from shore to shore. But no one wants to go there anyway.”  
  
“I might,” Castiel said excitedly.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“To meet vampires. Or witches. Or werewolves. They’re...interesting.”  
  
“You’re such a Thursday,” Gabriel groaned. “No. No Purgatory. But you might be able to meet some humans. There are a few places in Freeland and Lawrence that you can fly to.”  
  
Castiel’s face lit up. Gabriel laughed, slapping his wing into Castiel’s, who staggered back in shock as his wings felt the touch.  
  
“Same plane,” Gabriel winked, swatting him again lightly.  
  
Castiel watched in amazement as he reached one wing gently toward Gabriel’s, sliding his feathers along the crest. Gabriel grinned and shivered a little.  
  
Curling his wing at the tip, he brushed along the underside until their wings parted.  
  
Gabriel bit his lip, watching Castiel closely. “That feels...good.”  
  
Castiel met his gaze as Gabriel repeated the movement, sliding along the crest of one wing and brushing along the underside. Castiel shivered at the touch. It felt intimate when he touched the underside of his feathers.  
  
“I never did that before,” Gabriel said curiously. “Michael isn’t very touchy.”  
  
Castiel cleared his throat, calming the rush of sensations triggered by the touch.   
  
Gabriel stepped back, lifting his wings away. “Try them out, but don’t fly yet.”  
  
They ran and flapped their wings and moved them as they wished. Finally, Gabriel returned them to the music room.  
  
Castiel sat in a chair, feeling like he was a whole new person.   
  
“Now you need to learn how to put them away,” Gabe laughed. “Watch.”  
  
Castiel watched Gabriel as he took a steadying breath. His massive black wings disappeared. He opened his eyes, grinning. “Your turn.”  
  
Castiel got to his feet and flapped gently, stepping back. “Will it hurt next time?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He frowned hard, his brow furrowed tight. He felt a surge of power, his wings spreading sharply. His eyes popped open and he laughed short.  
  
“Just like starting a fire versus putting one out. Wings out, wings in.”  
  
Castiel nodded again, licking his lips, and closing his eyes. He drew in a steady breath, pulling the grace back inside. It took three tries before the wings were gone. But he could still feel them there, their presence. He grinned. “They feel like a shield.”  
  
“Huh,” Gabriel grinned. “They are a shield. Against Mage power. But not against swords or knives.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He glanced around the music room. Paintings hung askew. Plants had fallen. Instruments lay on the floor. “It looks like an earthquake happened here.”  
  
“Oh, you quaked the earth, Cassie. I’d say they felt that all over Thrones.”  
  
Castiel waved a hand, righting the instruments, plants, and paintings. Gabriel snapped and the mirror was gone.  
  
“Is that bad? That all of Thrones may have felt the earth quake?”  
  
“I’d say it was pretty fucking impressive.”  
  
“But...will others know? Am I supposed to keep it a secret?”  
  
“No way. They’re your wings. Some might get jealous. Some might feel threatened. But...you can show them to whoever you want.”  
  
Castiel pressed his lips together in thought. “Can we keep it between us? Just for now?”  
  
“Absolutely. Why do you think I locked us in here?”  
  
“Well, I was pretty sure you were trying to kill me,” Castiel grinned.  
  
Gabriel grinned mischievously. “You want to learn how to channel your grace? I’m going to teach you. Get some sleep, Cassie. ‘Cause I am not holding back on you.”  
  
Castiel laughed nervously. “Thank you, Gabriel.”   
  
“So, can you fix the curtains you burned?” Gabriel asked with a smirk.  
  
Castiel looked down the line of two-story windows. The curtains were all charred and mangled around the edges. “You set them on fire.”  
  
Gabriel leaned against the table. “Can you fix them?”  
  
Castiel looked at them again. He focused on the threading of the fabric. They knit back together. Char fell to the floor and he discarded that with a wave. They looked as though they were sewn in strange, jagged edges. “I can repair what is there. But I cannot fabricate what pieces of fabric have burned.”  
  
Gabe nodded. “Fair enough.” He snapped and the curtains returned to their former glory. “See you tomorrow, Castiel.”  
  
Castiel stared at them in wonder. “Will I be able to do that?”  
  
Gabe nodded. “With some training.”  
  
Castiel headed toward the doors. He stopped, turning back to his new mentor. “What was the first ward you broke? The one that didn’t hurt?”  
  
Gabriel grinned. “Your mating ward.”  
  
Castiel blushed. “Oh. Right. Uh...thank you.”  
  
“Well, don’t go knocking anyone up just yet.”  
  
Castiel blushed harder, pulling the door open. All five of his attending abettors and all ten of Gabriel’s stood at the doors with worried looks.  
  
Castiel glanced around at their expectant faces. “Everything is fine. We were...training.”  
  
The abettors all nodded, a few of Gabriel’s slipping inside the room to attend to him. He walked out of the east wing and into the cooling evening. Rachel caught up to him, along with Hannah. They were his closest abettors, and the ones he trusted the most, besides his half-brother Samandriel, who was left in Tree of Knowledge to fill in for his absence. He trusted his little brother more than anyone in the world.  
  
“Training began?” Rachel asked, always right down to business.  
  
“Yes. It seems Gabriel has finally decided to work with me.”  
  
“That’s wonderful,” she smiled. “It sounded...dangerous.”  
  
Castiel thought back on the wings bursting through his back with a wince. “I believe it will be very trying.”  
  
“I’ll update the others at home,” she nodded solemnly. “I was beginning to think we were going to leave here empty handed. With all the parties and...well, this place seems as loose with their morals as Tree of Life.”  
  
“It does appear that way,” Castiel nodded. “What have you learned since our arrival here?”  
  
She huffed an unamused laugh. “Very little. Michael is as pretentious as his reputation. Legion of Sunday’s people are an unfriendly lot. Legion of Monday’s people are...friendly. Some of them overly so.”  
  
Castiel grinned. “I would have to agree with that assessment. But I do believe Gabriel can teach me a lot.”  
  
She stopped at the entrance to the hall where her room was located. “Do you need anything else this evening?”  
  
Castiel shook his head. Rachel had been quite friendly since his rise to Mage. He suspected she had feelings for him, other than purely for support. “No, I’m rather tired. I’ll be going to bed now.”  
  
She nodded, heading down the hall. He continued down the main hall to his own corridor. She had to know their pairing was completely inappropriate. Mages could only mate with humans. Besides that, she was not his type.  
  
He went straight to his quarters, requesting a tub filled with water for bathing. Gabriel’s mansion had a large public bath, but he was not interested in using such a public place. Two men carried in a large copper bathing tub, sitting it in front of the fire. Three women came in carrying buckets of water. He sent them away once the tub was mostly full, refusing anyone to attend him with his nightly rituals.   
  
He took off his tan coat, hanging it on the peg on his door. He removed his boots, black breaches, and white tunic. He stepped into the tub, sliding down into the warm water. He closed his eyes as he thought of what had happened today.  
  
He had wings. He could ‘fly’. He was going to be a powerful Mage. He washed slowly, daydreaming about the things that he might be able to do. He wanted to be able to heal. He hoped Gabriel could teach him that. He wanted to help his Legion. His land. Haven. He thought about what laid beyond Haven.  
  
South of The Garden was a strait of land that almost connected to Purgatory. Monsters inhabited the entire country from shore to shore. Below Purgatory was Freeland. A large island inhabited by humans and monsters. Another two-day voyage by boat, below Freeland, was Lawrence. Where the humans lived. He wanted to meet some.  
  
Not just humans selected by the Collectors that worked in The Garden. Wild ones living their own lives in Lawrence. Or on the island of Britland. Nephilim never interacted with them, unless they were Collectors, finding suitable mates for nephilim. And of course, the mating.  
  
He was a full Mage now. Released by Gabriel. One of his duties as Mage was to take a mate. Children of Mages had a chance of carrying higher amounts of grace within them. He was a son of Kassiel. He did not know his father any better than most of his other siblings or other nephilim within Legion of Thursday. In Tree of Knowledge, they raised children in holds so they were all equally trained and raised. In The Garden and in Thrones, they raised children with their own families. It seemed much less organized. But it also seemed more appealing. His mate would have to be human. Two angels could not make a baby. And he already knew he wanted to choose his own, not allowing the seven Mages to vote on it.  
  
Lost in thought, the water had quickly become tepid. He focused on the water in the tub, thinking about heating it. He gasped, almost scalding himself by accidentally warming it too much. He scrambled out of the tub, waving the entire thing away. He dried off and crawled into bed. He had so much to learn. He wanted his skills to be so much better.  
  
Tomorrow would be a brand-new day. With his brand-new self.   
  
  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel met with Gabriel the following morning. He was having a lavish breakfast out on the veranda. As Castiel walked to the east side of Gabriel’s mansion, where he typically was found, he looked at the sharp edges of the mountains in the distance. He could go there if he wanted to. The thought stirred his wings.  
  
“Castiel!” Gabriel called when he stepped onto the flat stones of the veranda. “Eat up, Mage of Thursday. We have lots to do today!”  
  
Castiel nodded. He chose a handful of fruits, putting them onto a glass plate.  
  
“Isn’t he enticing?” Gabriel said to a female human that perched on the armrest of his chair. Her eyes traveled up Castiel’s body with a hungry grin.  
  
“He’s beautiful.” She winked at Castiel.  
  
Castiel looked back at the muffins in front of him, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks.  
  
“Aw, look, he’s blushing!” Gabriel laughed. He got to his feet, coming to Castiel’s elbow, piling two chocolate doughnuts onto Castiel’s plate. “Sweet, young Castiel. Remind me to send a host of my guests to your chambers tonight. You need to get some action.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Blow off a little steam.”  
  
“Gabriel, no,” Castiel growled.  
  
“Gabriel!”  
  
Castiel and Gabriel both turned as all the abettors and nephilim bowed to Michael.  
  
“Hey there, Michael,” Gabriel said, a bit of tightness in his voice.  
  
Michael’s smooth mocha skin looked warm against all the cool white granite and pastel colors around them.  
  
“Castiel,” Michael nodded, “how goes your stay, Mage of Thursday?”  
  
“Very well. How are you, Mage Michael?” Castiel swallowed hard. There was something hard and unreadable about the Mage. His grace was almost palpable.   
  
“Well, as always.” He turned to Gabriel, his demeanor darkening. “Gabriel,” he said sharply. “Let’s take a walk.”  
  
Castiel watched as the pair of Mages walked off the wide steps of the veranda, down a garden path.  
  
Castiel’s hungry stomach suddenly felt like a bag of sand. He took his plate to a table and sat quietly.  
  
The morning crowd returned to their eating and drinking. Rachel sat next to him with a nervous smile. They said little, per usual. Some of Gabriel’s stereotypes about the Legions had been correct. His people were quiet and patient. They tended to analyze everything before deciding.  
  
Gabriel was much rasher. Michael, however, seemed driven. What exactly he was driven about, or for, was still a mystery to him.  
  
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
  
As trivial and superficial as Gabriel appeared, his library held an interesting assortment of things. Not all were books. Cases held artifacts protected by heavy spellwork. Great maps and paintings hung on the walls, as in many other rooms of his mansion. Some of them were peculiar. Others were quite thought-provoking.   
  
Huge two-story windows let in much more light than in the shady, cramped maze in The Stacks. Ladders led up to narrow catwalks of shelves on a second story that surrounded the ornate shape of the large room. He had looked through the books multiple times since his arrival, finding an entire section of ancient texts on what the ancient peoples called ‘Greek and Norse gods’. Some of the books had more pictures than words, unlike the weighty tomes that lined Metatron’s shelves.   
  
Gabriel had not come back to breakfast, so Castiel entertained himself nervously in the main rooms of his mansion until he decided to wander the pleasant, quiet library again. He quirked a grin at an odd assortment of carved statues of Gabriel and a beautiful woman. He wondered if Gabriel had made them himself. The likeness of Gabriel was shockingly accurate. But he did not recognize the woman.  
  
“That’s Kali,” Gabriel smiled softly, surprising Castiel at his sudden and silent arrival.  
  
Castiel looked from Gabriel to the figures on the shelf.  
  
“She’s in The Garden, visiting her sister. It’s dull here when she’s away.”  
  
Castiel raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t imagine Gabriel’s home being any more entertaining. If it got any looser here, he might mistake himself for being in Tree of Life. Of course, that was Legion of Gabriel’s original home. Now he could see the resemblance.  
  
“So!” Gabriel smacked him on the shoulder. “We have some work to do.”  
  
Castiel stepped away from the shelf, following Gabriel to a black onyx table. “So, your grace. What can you do?”  
  
Castiel furrowed his brow in thought. “I can cook food, stimulate plant growth, move things, repair simple breaks in wood or stone, rejuvenate beehives, control fire, warm or cool water, when given a small amount of water, I can multiply it to fill large tubs or irrigate crops. I still struggle with the finer manipulations. I can ease pain but have had no training with healing. But I would like to. And...my wings.”

Gabriel nodded. “If you can stimulate plant growth, you’ll be able to heal. And pain is different. It’s a totally different power. When you take pain, you absorb and discard. Now you’ll be able to manage that in higher doses. But healing is more like stimulating growth. Building. Mending. But you have to be able to really focus and manipulate. But mostly, you just have to want it.” He shrugged, looking at Castiel with absolute conviction. “If you want it to happen, it’ll happen. That’s the key, Castiel.”  
  
There was something new in Gabriel’s tone and demeanor. An urgency was rising. Castiel could feel his own heart rate begin to pick up. “Gabriel, is everything okay?”  
  
Gabriel stared at him for a moment and then paced away. An abettor came down the stairs and into the library.  
  
“Mage Gabriel? He’s coming.”  
  
Gabriel gave Castiel a worried look.  
  
“Who’s coming?” Castiel asked. He came around the sleek, black table, stepping close to Gabriel. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Gabriel bit his lip. “You said you wanted to meet some humans, right?”  
  
Castiel tilted his head, thoroughly confused.  
  
“Shit. I thought we had more time. I’m gonna send you on an assignment while I deal with...this. Yeah...I’m gonna send you to Lawrence.”  
  
“Lawrence?” Castiel asked in shock. “When?”  
  
Gabriel pursed his lips in thought. “I need you to find a man named John Winchester. I need you to tell him he was right. To arm his forces. That Legion of Monday will fight for him.”  
  
Castiel gaped in confusion. “What?”  
  
“John Winchester. Tell him I will be there to fight for him. Tell him he was right.”  
  
“Alright! Wh-”  
  
Gabriel reached out and touched Castiel on the forehead. He lurched away in a flapping rush. The world was lost to him for several frozen seconds until the ground slammed into his feet and he crumpled hard.  
  
Castiel gasped, blinking, and looking around. There was a dirt road next to him and a copse of trees to his right. Trees that were unfamiliar to him. He got to his feet slowly, staring up into the odd shaped leaves. He glanced around him. No Gabriel. Castiel stepped back, looking around desperately. “Oh, Gabriel. What have you done?”  
  
  
  



	2. Lawrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that we know who Cas is, let’s meet Dean and the Winchester family.

Chapter 2: Lawrence  
  
  
Dean threw his covers back, sitting up begrudgingly. He had tossed and turned a lot during the night. He walked over to the window overlooking the reception yard in front of their home. No wagons moved in the streets yet and only a few chimneys smoked over the horizon of the city. The large, cobblestone reception yard was empty, save for the chickens milling about.   
  
The sun was just starting to turn the sky a bright orange-pink. It would be warm today, but not too hot. He was glad because today was Wednesday, or as Sam and he called it, Bitchday. It was the day of the week that anyone could bring their concerns, complaints, legal matters, and reports for their dad, the Sheriff, to oversee.   
  
He and his brother and stepmother would be by his side. His father insisted they be present as often as possible to someday be good sheriffs.   
  
At least it wouldn’t be so hot in the hall that he would fall asleep and get in trouble. There was nothing like getting a face full of water to shock you into wakefulness. He and Sam did their best to keep each other awake, but some Wednesdays in summer were damn tough. Luckily, it was finally fall and the weather was starting to cool down.  
  
He watched as Donna came around the front of the house and dumped feed for the chickens. She and her husband Doug ran the huge kitchen at the bunker. He could hear her talking gently to them but couldn’t make out the words. He was quite sure she loved those damn chickens more than him. He smirked. Okay, she probably loved them equally.  
  
His door flew open with a bang as Adam ran into the room.  
  
“Dean!”  
  
Dean turned quickly, snagging his six-year-old half-brother around the waist, and tossed him onto his bed. “Who let you out?” Dean laughed, tickling him. “No one is supposed to let the monsters out until noon!”  
  
“ROAR! I’m a werewolf!” Adam laughed, squirming away.  
  
“Don’t make me get my knife out, squirt,” Dean laughed, pouring water into the dry sink in front of his mirror.  
  
“You gonna shave?” Adam asked, all ruffled hair and curiosity now. He perched on the windowsill next to Dean.   
  
“I am.”  
  
Adam propped his elbows on his knees, chin in his palms, watching with fascination.  
  
“You gonna shave when you grow up?” Dean said with a pull to his mouth to make his cheek flat for shaving. “Or you gonna totally wolf-out and have a big beard?”  
  
“I’m gonna shave. Like you.”  
  
Dean turned his head, tilting and sliding the blade, shaving the soap lather and stubble away. When finished, he washed his face with the cold water. He patted it dry, and flicked water onto Adam, who giggled.  
  
“Get lost, squirt, I gotta get ready.”  
  
“See you at breakfast,” Adam said, walking out of the room, already dressed, boots and all.  
  
“Hold up,” Dean laughed.  
  
Adam came back, looking at him curiously.  
  
Dean lifted his tiny frame, sitting him atop his dresser. His left boot buttons were totally wrong. He undid all twelve buttons. “You gotta line ‘em up, Adam. Ya can’t just button ‘em all crazy. Whose great idea was it to make kids shoes so dang hard to put on anyway?”  
  
“It stays on my foot,” Adam reasoned.  
  
Dean ruffled his hair. He finished buttoning and put Adam back on his feet. “Is Sam up?”  
  
“Guess we’ll see!” He grinned big, his dirty blonde hair flopping as he ran down the hall to Sam’s room.  
  
Dean shut his door and finished washing up for the morning. He pulled his blue breaches on and a black short-sleeved shirt. He shoved his short boots on. He tied the laces, brushed his hair, and set out for the day.  
  
Dean headed into the family dining room. The bunker was the capitol building in Lebanon, the capitol of Lawrence. After his father’s election as sheriff ten years ago, the family had moved into the bunker. It was a large building, with a great hall and other meeting halls for the public. The entire first floor was open to the public, except the kitchen, which was teaming with staff. The second floor had guest quarters for travelers on business and the Winchesters’ family quarters.  
  
It was a strange adjustment from the humble little house he and Sam had come from. When they had gotten here, it seemed like a mansion. Like something straight out of the veil. He had been fourteen and Sam ten. Two years later, their dad married Kate, who had improved their father tremendously. When he and Sam were young, before they lived in the bunker, their dad had been an angry, drunk man, bent solely on hunting down the demon that had killed their mother.  
  
It wasn’t until a demon came after Dean, almost killing him, that their dad got his priorities in order. He sobered up, stayed at home, and decided he could make changes by being a part of the law. Once elected into office, his driven personality became softened by the staff at the bunker. But when he met Kate, she set him straight on how to treat his children better.  
  
Now that he was Head Sheriff over Lawrence, he was making stricter laws for monsters trespassing into their country. He had improved trade and was known for his fair judgement on matters.   
  
It was bitter sometimes, to see how good he was with Adam. But they couldn’t hold it against an innocent little boy.   
  
“Mornin’, Dean!” Donna grinned, sitting a dish of fried potatoes on the buffet.  
  
“Morning Donna,” he returned her smile as he grabbed a plate and began loading up on breakfast.   
  
Sam, coming in right behind him, grabbed a plate and began piling on the food. Adam followed suit, going for the sweets and bacon, like Dean.  
  
They sat at the table, joining their dad.  
  
“Full docket today, boys,” their dad said dryly. “Be ready for guests at dinner. Bela arrived late last night. She’ll be here for a few days.”  
  
“Wonderful,” Dean groused. “She can rob us blind again. How is it that she’s even allowed to step foot in Lebanon?”  
  
John frowned. “If we made a bad deal -”  
  
“Oh, we definitely made a bad deal,” Dean huffed, cramming a doughnut into his mouth.  
  
His dad glared at him. “If you think you can do a better job, Dean, by all means, run for office. We’ll see just how perfect a track record you have.”  
  
Dean swallowed all the sugary dough in his overstuffed mouth. “I didn’t mean -”  
  
“I know what you meant,” John snapped. He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Believe me, whatever trade deal she has brought will be scrutinized by the accountant.”  
  
Dean nodded. Per usual, he wished he would have just kept his mouth shut. Sam gave him a head shake to shut up, as if he hadn’t gotten the message already.  
  
“Can I be sheriff?” Adam asked, squirming in his seat to kneel on the chair.  
  
John smiled. “You sure could be. Dean or Sam too. If you can get elected.”  
  
Adam grinned, cramming a piece of bacon in his mouth.  
  
  
  
It was a long Wednesday, with an endless line of people with minor complaints. Mostly trespassing, some stolen food, land disputes, and one case of reported spousal abuse from a neighbor. It was Dean’s task to ride out to investigate the situation the next day.  
  
After their tedious day, the evening dragged as he put in his mandatory face-time with their guests. As their accountant toiled away in his office over the contract Bela had brought to discuss the next year’s trading terms, she prattled on about the new gown maker she had employed. Bela was certainly beautiful, with her long lashes, flirty smile, and fashionable clothes. She held a high office in Britland that allowed her an awful lot of perks. Dean found her accent strange and knew her to be a cut-throat deal negotiator, despite her pretty smile. She always flirted with him on her visits, which his dad teased him would certainly help their deal if he would only entertain her a bit more kindly. Dean was more interested in the accountant’s view of her, knowing she was trying to screw them over somehow.  
  
Kate entertained her most of the evening, thankfully. Dean kept himself hidden away after dinner with Sam in the kitchen most of the evening, even helping Donna with dishes to keep himself out of sight. By the time both Bela and Kate had gone to bed for the night, Dean and Sam were playing penny poker with Donna and Doug at the workers’ table in the kitchen.  
  
“Last hand,” Doug said, yawning as he dealt the cards.  
  
“Oh, don’t start!” Donna yawned.  
  
Outside, the dogs started barking. The doorbell rang and Donna sighed, putting her cards down as she went to answer the front door. It was unusual but not unheard of to get a visitor so late.  
  
Donna came back to the kitchen with a frown. “I just let the weirdest fella in.”  
  
Dean frowned. “What kind of weird?”   
  
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Handsome. Like, really handsome, ya know?”  
  
Dean smirked at the disgusted look on Doug’s face. “What kind of sigils did he have?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know. He had a cloak on. And when I went to shake his hand, he looked at me like I was a two-headed ghoul.”  
  
Dean got up. “I’ll go check it out.”  
  
“He’s talking with your dad in the blue parlor.”  
  
Dean tapped Sam’s arm, his brother standing to join him. They headed down the hall, through the large foyer and toward the parlor with blue curtains and a blue couch, earning its nickname. They stopped before they got there, seeing their dad walking to the front door a man with dark brown hair. His clothes were...different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different about them. They were a slightly different style than what he was used to. The tan cloak billowed out while he walked. And his boots were taller than most people here would wear.   
  
“Look, whoever you say you are, you need to take this little show elsewhere. Because if he wanted to talk to me, he’d be here himself.”  
  
“I don’t know why he sent me, John Winchester, but you must be in real jeopardy for him to have sent me.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” his dad nodded, opening the front door.  
  
The man turned on the step, giving their dad a pleading look. “John -”  
  
The man’s blue eyes flicked to Dean for just a second before going back to his dad. “I assure you -”  
  
“Next Wednesday you can sign up to meet with me in the hall. Until then, get a room in town, buddy.”  
  
The man looked shocked as their dad shut the door in his face and locked it.  
  
“Who was that?” Sam asked, coming toward him.  
  
“Some nut job. Tell Donna not to open the door for just anybody.” He looked back at the door frowning, like he was reconsidering what he had just done. “I wonder...” He opened the door.   
  
A light, steady rain fell, puddles collecting on the cobblestone reception yard.  
  
“Damn,” Sam laughed. “He musta run for cover!”  
  
Their dad’s frown turned to a look of concern. He shut the door quietly and headed for his office. “Send Donna in.”  
  
Dean walked to the front door while Sam headed back to the kitchen to get Donna. He opened the door, scanning the empty reception yard again. He went out into the rain, pulling his flannel shirt up higher around his neck. He walked the perimeter of the entire bunker, dogs in tow. Other than one of the barn hands hauling a wheel barrel full of horse shit out to the back field, there was no one out in the rain.  
  
He pulled on the door to Missouri’s house. Missouri was a longtime and close friend of their dad’s. She was also a witch. The only witch their father seemed to trust. Her house, attached to the back of the bunker, like at all capitol buildings, give her the status of being Lebanon’s (and Lawrence’s, if you asked the Winchesters) head witch. This week, she was two towns over, putting up fertility wards for a cattle farmer. He was surprised when her door swung open. She typically kept it locked.   
  
Dean pushed it open fully, pulling a knife out as he scanned the room. Missouri’s shelves were stocked, and her fireplace was cold. He walked quietly through each of her rooms, glancing into every corner. The living room, kitchen, bathroom, and her bedroom were all empty.  
  
“Huh.” He pulled her front door shut, continuing around the bunker until he came back to the front door. He was soaked by the time he came into the foyer.  
  
“Did you find him?” Sam asked, heading toward the parlor.  
  
“Nope. Guy’s like a ghost. He disappeared.”   
  
“Well, don’t bug Dad about it. He’s crankier than usual.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Alright. I’ll speak to him in the morning.” They headed upstairs and went to bed.  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
Dean woke to the loud clanging of alarm bells. He was on his feet in a second, pulling on pants and a shirt hastily. It was pitch black outside, indicating he had only been asleep for a few hours. He had one boot on, hopping down the hall to Sam’s room when his door opened, and he came out half dressed. He couldn’t remember the last time the bells had gone off during the night.  
  
“What’s going on?” Sam yelled.  
  
“No idea!” Dean yelled back. “Are we under attack?”  
  
“From whom?”  
  
“I don’t know!”  
  
Kate came around the corner with Adam in tow. “Down to the bunker!” She yelled.  
  
They all turned, heading toward the back stairs. Dean pulled aside a painting of a meadow, exposing the narrow, secret door. Adam went first, then Kate. Sam and Dean followed. They moved as quietly as possible on the rickety, narrow stairs. The passage would take them down to the underground bunker. When they got to the first floor, Dean stopped.  
  
Sam turned. “What are you doing?”  
  
“I gotta go help,” he said quickly.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He turned to Kate, cutting off her frantic argument. “Go! We’ll come get you when it’s over!”  
  
With a pained look, she dragged Adam with her, who was putting up a fight of his own.  
  
They came out into the red parlor, sneaking through the room toward shouting out in the hall.   
  
Dean peeked around the doorway, seeing several people in the foyer. He turned back to Sam, tipping his head toward the hall. Sam nodded.  
  
They quickly crept along the hall, knives in hand, as a loud boom rang out, shaking the very floors. A loud roaring whirled around the foyer in a snake-like column of black smoke.  
  
“Demons!” Dean yelled, the house staff scattering. It bounced from person to person, squealing and shrieking. Finally, it burst through a window, leaving in a great rush.  
  
The deafening silence in the foyer was shocking. But not as shocking as the blood, and the dead bodies of three guards.  
  
Donna got to her feet, her hands shaking as she stared at the closed front door with a look of terror.   
  
Dean knelt next to one of the guards. No pulse. Sam shook his head no at another man’s pulse. Dean checked the third man. No pulse. He stood up, sighing.  
  
He looked around the foyer, his eyes stopping on Donna. “What happened?”  
  
“A man came in with Rodger,” she pointed at one of the dead men. “I saw his eyes turn black, so I sent Krissy to ring the alarm. It all happened so fast. John came running out and...the demon took him. They just disappeared.”  
  
“Wait...what?” Dean spat in shock.  
  
“I couldn’t stop him! He just...disappeared! They grabbed him. John put up a fight, but...they got him anyway! I tried to reach for the holy water but...” she shook her head in shock and fear. “I’m so sorry!”  
  
Sam put an arm around Donna, “I know you did all you could.”  
  
Dean paced around the room. Blood stained the wall and pooled on the floor. A stench of sulfur hung in the air. Freaking demons.  
  
“Was it the blue-eyed guy from earlier?” Dean asked angrily.  
  
“No. This man was older. With yellow eyes.”  
  
“Yellow?” Dean asked. Well, he didn’t know that much about demons. But yellow eyes sounded frightening. Something inside him felt relief that the blue-eyed man had not been the one. But who had he been? If all the staff and family had not had anti-possession tattoos, the demon would have taken over another body. But because it had nowhere to go, it had to leave. All but Rodger, it seemed, who now lay dead.  
  
“They didn’t even say anything,” Donna went on, “they just...snatched ahold of him and vanished. Then the one left exploded something, killing the guard he was in, and the others.”  
  
Kate and Adam were back on the main floor, one of the maids, quickly took Adam out of the room, so he did not see the carnage in the foyer.  
  
When Donna explained what had happened, Kate fell to her knees, looking terrified.  
  
“Why are demons here anyway?” Dean wondered aloud. “They have to know we’ll hunt them down.”  
  
“But that guy that came last night,” Sam added, “he told Dad he was ‘in jeopardy’. Dad didn’t think he was. But obviously...”  
  
“So, is this personal or political?” Dean paced across the floor. Their dad had made quite a lot of enemies among the demons. He always swore a demon had killed their mother. He could have made an enemy that just took their time about getting back at him.  
  
  
Kate gave Dean a baleful look. “This could be personal. We can’t send an army and risk another war breaking out.” She got to her feet, chewing on one nail. Even in her night dress with her blonde hair loose about her shoulders, she was able to pull herself into the commanding role of Head Sheriff’s wife. She stood up taller, taking a breath. “Sam, Dean, I want you packed and ready to leave here by dawn on Friday. I need you to take Adam to the Campbells’. They’ll be able to protect you all from the demons. They are more familiar with how to fight such loathsome beasts.”  
  
Dean frowned, starting to argue, but she cut him off. “If this is personal, you need to be protected.”  
  
Dean huffed in displeasure. He hated the thought of running to hide. But she was right about the Campbells. They were his mother’s family, but Sam and Dean hated to go back there. The Campbells were hunters. They lived in North Lawrence and came across monsters more often than people here did. They would keep Adam safe, but there was no way his grandfather would keep him or Sam locked away. And he might know more about why demons would take their dad.  
  
“Fine.” He turned to one of the guards standing near. “Find out anything you can. See if any locals are experiencing demon attacks. This could be bigger than just Dad.”  
  
The guard nodded, heading toward the kitchen to leave out the back door.  
  
“Someone tell Krissy to stop ringing that damn bell,” Kate snapped. Another guard went running.   
  
“I’ll send for the coroner,” Donna said sadly, looking at the men. “Boys, help me block off the foyer.”  
  
“Where would they take him?” Sam asked. “Purgatory?”  
  
“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean said, both hands in his hair in frustration. “But we’re going to find him. He’s our dad. We won’t stop hunting for him if we have to tear Purgatory apart. Fuck those demons.”  
  
They waited for the coroner, and for the local sheriff to come investigate. After the bodies were removed and the maids began cleaning, the family gathered in one of the meeting rooms.  
  
Kate had gotten dressed, but other than that, they were all just like they were when they had jumped out of bed. Kate sat heavily in a chair at the large table. Sam sat down gingerly, holding a sleeping Adam on his lap. Poor kid had red-rimmed eyes and pale cheeks. Dean sat down, his head dropping heavily into his hands.  
  
“We need to get Adam tattooed. I wanted to wait until he was older...but he needs protection,” Kate said firmly.  
  
Dean nodded. “I’ll get it done when we get to our grandparents.”  
  
Kate nodded.  
  
“We better do it before we get on the road,” Sam warned, making a good point.  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Set that up, would ya?”  
  
Sam nodded, cradling his brother a little tighter.  
  
Dean went over to a shelf, getting a piece of paper and a pencil. “We need to remember every demon Dad ever talked about.”  
  
They spent the rest of the wee hours of the morning coming up with a list of names they had heard, places he had been. It was short. He didn’t talk much about his time out hunting. The one they had heard about the most was Azazel. But there was a handful of others. Ruby, Meg, Ramiel, and Tom. Azazel was the one he had tracked all the way to Purgatory years ago. He had suspected that demon of being involved in the death of their mother, but nothing had come of it, other than he had killed some of the demons working for Azazel.  
  
It was all parsed together, giving them little to go on.  
  
“Maybe the Campbells will remember more,” Sam sighed.  
  
“I need to make arrangements. Get our gear packed.” Dean stood up, stretching.  
  
Donna came in, looking pale and tense. “Mr. Henriksen is here to see you.”  
  
Kate nodded.  
  
The local sheriff, Henriksen, came in. “We aren’t used to working with demon attacks. They’re pretty rare around here. We figure either we’ll never hear another word from them again or they’ll show back up with demands.”  
  
Kate nodded.  
  
“If we get demands, we might get some information. But...otherwise...I have no idea how to track him down. I sent for Missouri. I’m hoping she can help in some kind of way. A tracking spell or...something.”  
  
“Thank you.” She walked him out.   
  
Dean and Sam took Adam up to his room. Dean lay him in his bed while they went about packing his things. “It’s a four-day ride to the Campbell’s. It’s five if we stop at Uncle Bobby’s first.”  
  
Sam looked up at him sharply from tucking Adam’s clothes into a saddlebag. “We could do that?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Besides, maybe he can help.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Let’s do it.”  
  
Dean picked up a few small toys, putting them in a bag. “We gotta pack pretty light. No wagon on this one. Just the horses. We can move faster, quieter, and we can get away easier if something comes after us.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Got it.”  
  
Dean left his brothers, going to his own room to pack a bag. He didn’t need much. He had been hunting many times. He had taken people places and delivered messages. He knew the route to Bobby’s and to the Campbells’ quite well.   
  
They were going to need camping supplies. And food. The less they stopped, the better.  
  
He headed to the stable to talk to the barn-keeps about the three horses they would take. His was a 16-hand mare named Impala. She was all muscle and could run like a freight train. Sam would take Challenger, his black stud. Adam had a docile horse named Windom, an older fella that would not make the trip well. Instead, he told them to prep Wisconsin. A big brown gelding that was sure footed and reliable.  
  
By the time he was ready to leave the stable all their tack and supplies lay gathered in the tack-room for the morning.  
  
One of the barn cats, a large, black cat, followed him, watching with interest as he sat a feed bag on top of the saddlebags.  
  
The cat jumped onto a table in the tack room, pawing at a pencil on the desk, meowing.  
  
Dean scooped the cat up, pulling the tack-room door shut. He put the cat on a bale of hay, going back to the house for some much-needed breakfast.  
  
  



	3. The Curiosity Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s side of events. Poor guy is trying to blend in. Typical Castiel-brand luck with that!

Chapter 3. The Curiosity Spell  
  
  
  
  
Castiel walked for miles along the dirt road he had appeared next to. Why had Gabriel not sent him exactly where he needed to go? And when was he coming for him?  
  
He stood along the road for some time, unsure where to go. Eventually, he began walking in the direction most travelers headed.  
  
Riders passed him. Some at a gallop, others walking. Some riders said hello, others eyed him suspiciously. Castiel had to stop himself from staring. Their tack was not as fine as nephilim would use, but it was handsome all the same. Their clothes appeared rough-hewn, mostly drab colors, and they seemed dirty. They were more civilized than he thought. More driven to their tasks than simply surviving in the wild. He could see already as he followed the road, that the nephilim’s perception of human affairs was inaccurate and outdated.  
  
As evening began setting in, a wagon came to a stop next to him. “Can I give you a lift? It’s gonna rain soon.”  
  
Castiel tried not to stare at the wild human. And this was the first to say more than just hello. “Perhaps,” Castiel said, approaching the wagon carefully. “I’m looking for a John Winchester. Have you heard of him?”  
  
The man chuckled. He reminded Castiel of a kinder version of Uriel. “Yes. I know who his is.”  
  
“You do?” Castiel could not believe his luck. “I have an urgent message for him. Would you be able to take me to him?”  
  
The man thought for a moment. He seemed to take in his clothes and study his face. A wise move when picking up a stranger, he supposed.  
  
“I can take you to the bunker. I’m headed to Lebanon anyway.”  
  
Castiel grinned with relief. He climbed aboard the wagon, sitting next to the man. He was alone, hauling a wagon full of barrels. He shook the reins, starting the horses at a brisk walk. “I’m George. I sell mead to the local taverns.”  
  
“I’m...” Castiel wondered if he should tell the humans he was a nephilim. He had heard there were prejudices against them. Though the Collectors only took humans that wanted to go to Haven, he had heard most humans were fearful of nephilim. “Thank you very much for the ride, George.”  
  
George grinned affably and looked straight ahead. “You remind me of a guy I met from Brighton. He had blue eyes, like yours. Soft spoken fella. He came to our house when my sister was sick.”  
  
Castiel stared at the quality of the wagon, reins, halters, and even George’s boots. This was not what he had expected. He nodded for the man to continue talking.  
  
“My mother was worried. Our local doc said my sister was ‘just carrying on’. But my mother knew better. That doctor figured out she had appendicitis. Did an operation on our kitchen table. Whew! She lived though. Fine and dandy now. Got three kids, and her own mending shop.”  
  
Castiel nodded. Surgery? Metatron would be absolutely fascinated here. They were not as wild as he had thought them to be. Although carrying out a surgery in a kitchen seemed barbaric.   
  
George was very talkative. Castiel listened carefully to each tale the man told. Lawrence was nothing like he thought it would be. He learned about George’s husband, his nieces, and nephews. They all had such odd names. Frank, Jimmy, Sarah, Maggie. Their lives seemed odd, yet more like how nephilim lived than he would ever have guessed. He decided he should try to blend in as much as possible.  
  
“So, what brings you to Lebanon?” George asked during a lull in his rambling. “And what was your name again?”  
  
“My name is...Jimmy. I’m just a messenger.”  
  
George gave him an appraising look. “Alright, Jimmy. Can I ask what kind of message you’re delivering to John Winchester? Must be important.”  
  
Castiel nodded gravely. “I’m afraid it is not news he will be pleased to hear. But it is important, nonetheless.”  
  
They traveled for several more miles into Lebanon. Castiel marveled at the town. It was large. Industrious. Bustling with people heading home for the evening. The streets were clean and lined with houses and shops. Many people knew George, waving to him as he passed.  
  
Night had fallen and the rain had finally come. It was misty and wet, soaking clothes more quickly than one might suspect from its misty quality.  
  
George came to a stop in front of a large building made of stone. “This is the bunker. That’s what we call it, on account of it’s an ancient shelter of some sort, underground. Just go to the front door there and they’ll be able to get you to Mr. Winchester. It’s pretty late, but they’ll probably answer the door.”  
  
“Thank you, George. I wish I had some way of repaying you, but I’m afraid I have nothing to offer.” He smiled with a bit of embarrassment and apology. He wished he could use his grace to mend the man’s clothes or improve his wagon, but that would surely give him away as a strange creature.  
  
“No worries, Jimmy. Doing business for Mr. Winchester is thanks enough.”  
  
Castiel nodded, climbing down from the wagon. He watched as it pulled away, disappearing into the misty night. He was pleasantly surprised with what he had seen so far. He tried to remember every detail he noted, to tell Metatron next time he saw him. The books at The Stacks referenced humans as though they were living in the wild with little infrastructure. From what he had seen so far, they were as established as the nephilim.  
  
He walked through the open gate, into a large cobblestone area. It looked as though many wagons could sit here. Or perhaps it was a marketplace by day.  
  
The building was two stories tall and looked formidable. As he crossed the cobblestone yard, dogs barked, running at him, but not harming him. He greeted them politely, explaining he was here to see John Winchester. Their responses came in happy bursts of ‘welcome’ and ‘trust’ and a heightened curiosity of where he was from. He politely avoided their observations of ‘he’s different’. One of them led him to the front entrance, then ran off to join the others. He pulled the chain, ringing the doorbell.  
  
A woman with blonde hair opened the door with a grin. “Well, hey there. Can I help ya?”  
  
“I’m here to see John Winchester. Is he in?” He noticed the woman looking at his clothes. They were a much finer thread count than what he had seen in Lawrence so far.   
  
“He’s here. Please come on in.” She stepped back, allowing him entrance. She held her hand out, stopping to look at him. Castiel looked at her hand. She worked hard, her hands had callouses. He did not understand what he was to do next. He turned, shyly, looking at the large room they were in. The foyer was wide with some decor, but certainly plain by nephilim standards. Beautiful paintings hung on the walls and sconces burned to give the large room a glow.  
  
The woman shut the door, her hand dropping back to her side. “Can I ask what this is about?”  
  
“It’s...urgent. I have an urgent message for him, of grave importance.”   
  
“Right,” she nodded slowly. “This way, then.”  
  
He followed her through the foyer and down a hall to a study. A man sat in a comfortable-looking chair by the fire, reading a book.  
  
“John, you have a caller. I know it’s late, but he says it’s urgent.”  
  
The man, John, stood up, taking his glasses off. He looked at him suspiciously. “Thank you, Donna.”  
  
Donna gave Castiel a polite smile and left the room, closing the door.  
  
John walked up to him slowly. “Should I know you?”  
  
Castiel licked his lips, taking a step toward the man. “No. We’ve never met. I’m Castiel. Gabriel sent me.”  
  
John frowned. “Gabriel, the Mage?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel said carefully.  
  
“If Gabriel has a message, why isn’t he here?” John asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Castiel swallowed. “I am not privy to anything you and Gabriel may have discussed. But when the Mage of Monday says he has a message, it would behoove you to listen.”  
  
John smirked with a disbelieving huff. “If that sprite has something to tell me he can come here himself. He’s not sending one of his little Tricksters here to confuse us.”  
  
Castiel frowned. He had read something about sprites. It was what humans called the Mages. And Gabriel’s legion was known as the Trickster.  
  
“I am not just a nephilim, Mr. Winchester. I am the Legion of Thursday’s Mage. And Gabriel sent me here to tell you that you are correct. And that he will fight with you.”  
  
“Yeah. Right.”  
  
Castiel had no idea how to make this man understand that what he was saying was of import. If he knew more about the situation, he could say more. But he had little more to give the man. “Do you know Gabriel?”  
  
John rolled his eyes. “You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s take a walk.”  
  
Castiel guffawed at the man’s blatant dismissal of him. “How dare you ignore the word of a Mage? Let alone two!”  
  
John laughed shortly. “You sprites think yourselves pretty important. Well, believe it or not, Mage, we have a whole world of our own shit going on right here.” He turned sharply to Castiel, coming to a stop. “I’ve read about you. Or your boss. The Trickster. Likes to mess with people’s heads. Teach them lessons so they get their ‘just desserts’. Well, I’ve paid my dues.” He leaned closer to Castiel’s face. “If this is a trick, I’m not playin’. I’ve had enough demon hunting for a lifetime.”  
  
“Demons?” Castiel asked, following him again. At the door to the house, he stepped out onto the porch. What would Gabriel be doing with demons and humans?   
  
“Look,” John said impatiently, “whoever you say you are, you need to take this little show elsewhere. Because if he wanted to talk to me, he’d be here himself.”  
  
“I don’t know why he sent me, John Winchester, but you must be in real jeopardy for him to have sent me.” He pressed his lips together in frustration. There was just no getting through to this man.  
  
“Uh-huh,” John nodded, putting a hand on the door.  
  
Castiel stared at the stubborn man with a pleading look. It was no small thing for Gabriel to send him here. He had to figure out how to get through to him. “John -” He spotted two young men at the back of the foyer. “I assure you -”  
  
“Next Wednesday, you can sign up to meet with me in the hall. Until then, get a room in town, buddy.”  
  
The door shut smartly in his face. Of all the rude and ungrateful swine! Castiel huffed at the door. He would have to find another way in. He walked briskly around to the back of the building.   
  
The further he walked, the more he realized he needed out of here. He needed more information to make John understand whatever it was Gabriel needed him to know. Halfway along the back of the large building, he stopped. The rain picked up.  
  
Gabriel had warned him to not try flying on his own, but that was before the bastard had flung him halfway down the world and left him here on his own. He stopped in his tracks, summoning his grace, pulling his wings from the other plane. He envisioned the veranda at Gabriel’s house. It’s flat stones, the way the air blew, the sandy color of the tall pillar close to the door. He thought about flying, reaching...he felt a pull behind his chest, then suddenly felt like he had just hit a stone ceiling. He stumbled, blinking, and rubbing his head. There were wards against nephilim flying in, so maybe they couldn’t fly out either. Gabriel had said there were spots where they could fly in. Specific places. That must be why he had appeared along the side of the road, miles from town.   
  
“Dammit.”  
  
He scrambled for a thought of what to do next. John was obviously a man of means and power. He hoped his readings were correct that tribe leaders always had a witch nearby. He was going to need assistance to get home. He searched around the back of the long building. There were doors and small homes, possibly for people that worked on the grounds.  
  
He spotted a sigil he knew. The sigil of a witch carved into a wooden door of a small home. A stick figure with a waning moon for a body, meaning the witch was past her prime. He banged on the door. No one answered.  
  
He spotted one of the men he had seen in the foyer coming around the corner of the building. He pressed his palm to the door. It was locked with a witch’s ward. He snapped it easily with a dull glow from his hand. He slipped inside, pushing the door closed quietly. Hopefully, the man had not seen him.   
  
He looked around the dark room, with vision that nephilim possessed he could almost see as well at night as he could by day. The living room was small, with a couch and two chairs near a fireplace. Behind the couch was the kitchen. A neat and clean round table with four chairs stood in the kitchen’s center. The kitchen took up the better part of the room, with a long pantry of herbs, plants, jars of minerals, bones, animal parts, and a variety of fluids. She was a competent witch.   
  
He heard a jiggle of the door handle and fled silently to the witch’s bedroom. He backed himself against a dresser, hearing the man come inside.  
  
He focused his grace, pulling himself away from the eyes of the man that would soon be upon him. He felt a pull, as if he just backed himself into still water. He listened carefully as slow footsteps came down the short hall.  
  
The man stepped into the bedroom, looking around. His green eyes swept right past him, checking the darker corners of the room. He was shocked to realize the man could not see him at all! The man stepped out of the room, making his way out of the little house, shutting the door.  
  
Castiel had never made himself invisible before. But Gabriel had said the key was to want something bad enough. He did not want to be seen. He held onto the feeling, still not feeling entirely safe here.  
  
He turned, suddenly catching sight of his wing. He turned the other way, seeing the other one. How had that happened?  
  
He moved them, feeling the air on them. Curious, he reached a hand across his body, shocked to feel the feathers. They were strong and silky; unlike any bird feather he had ever felt. He stroked the top ridge, shivering at the feel of his own touch. He wrapped the wing around, sinking his hand amongst the underside, combing his fingers through the feathers. It felt...heavenly. Like massaging a muscle or stroking his hair. He wrapped both wings around himself, running his fingers through the feathers. It was still so amazing and new to him.  
  
He moved his wings, opening them fully. They disturbed nothing in the room, not even the wall.  
  
His brow furrowed. He had not made himself invisible. He had pulled the rest of his body into the plane his wings were in. Had Gabriel never done this? Or had he just not told him about it?  
  
With Gabriel on his mind again, he focused his thoughts. He swept a hand along the sleek feathers one last time and thought about coming out of the plane. Like emerging from a tub of water, he gasped softly as he materialized into the room, wings still in the other plane. He grinned, pleased with himself. He was learning quickly.  
  
He quietly went back to the living room. He pulled his wings out, seeing them in a smoky haze, not as clear as when he was in the other plane with them.  
  
He needed to get back home. Whatever Gabriel had wanted him to accomplish here, obviously was not happening. Maybe the witch’s house was a special ward-free zone. He summoned all his will and want, pooling his grace and pictured the veranda at Gabriel’s house.  
  
The sudden block, as if his head hit the ceiling, stopped him forcefully. He let his grace go, stumbling slightly and rubbing his sore head.  
  
He sighed heavily, put his wings away, and sat on a chair. He had read a lot about witchcraft. He found it fascinating how humans had learned to manipulate the power of nature’s grace. While nephilim had grace within and used grace within nature around them, witches learned how to connect with their souls to work with nature’s grace. He found it inspiring and it made him feel more connected to his human side. He had never met his mother, but he wondered often if she had been a witch or come from a family of them.  
  
He remembered little of all that he had read, but maybe if he found a spell, he could get himself home. If nothing else, at least in communication with Gabriel.  
  
He began looking through the books on one of the shelves. Gabriel had said if he wanted something bad enough, he could make it happen. So, maybe he could.  
  
  
  
Long into the night, he searched the books, settling on a ‘returning’ spell. He mixed the ingredients and pooled his grace as he dropped ground mandrake root in the metal bowl. He concentrated on returning home.  
  
A flash of white light burst at the drop of catnip, the final ingredient. His entire body bulged and stretched and then began to pull in, twisting, and shrinking with a violent surge.  
  
What surely only lasted three seconds, felt like an entire lifetime. He lay on the floor gasping. He blinked slowly, lifting his head. He felt very small and oddly light.  
  
He was still in the witch’s house.  
  
Something had gone horribly wrong.  
  
He moved his legs, for he had four now, and got gingerly to his paws. Shiny black fur covered his legs. He turned, seeing with horror, he had a long tail. He lifted a paw, inspecting it. Claws came out when he flexed what used to be his fingers. He extended them, pulling the claws back in.  
  
Shakily, he made his way over to the front of a glass cabinet to look at his reflection.  
  
He was a cat.  
  
A large black cat. With big blue eyes.  
  
He cried out, hearing only a howling meow.  
  
For the love of the creator! What had he done?! And more frighteningly, how would he undo it?  
  
He pulled his thoughts together, reaching for his grace. It felt different! He tried to heal himself. Nothing. He tried to pull his wings out or pull himself back into that plane they were in. Nothing. He stared at a hanging edge of a tablecloth, willing it to catch fire. Nothing!  
  
He howled and meowed and slumped to the floor. The great Mage of Thursday. A fucking cat.  
  
Eventually, he got up onto the counter after several clumsy jumps. He pawed his way through the witch’s book. How could he undo this?  
  
  
  
Castiel jerked awake to the clanging of bells.  
  
He was still in the witch’s house.  
  
He was still a cat.  
  
He wondered at the sounding bells, worried there was something wrong. It had a sound of urgency. He jumped down from the counter where he had fallen asleep while looking for a spell, crossed the living room and jumped up onto a windowsill. People were locking their shutters, hiding in their homes while a few went running toward the bunker.  
  
There was no fire that he could see, but there must have been some sort of emergency to wake the whole town in the middle of the night.  
  
He had come to realize, shortly before he succumbed to sleep, that he was not getting out of this situation alone. He would have to wait until the witch returned to get her help.  
  
Curiosity had always been a strong trait in Castiel. He jiggled the knob long enough that he finally got out the front door. He trotted alongside the great bunker, slipping inside the kitchen back door when someone ran in. He darted out of sight, following the general chaos to the foyer.  
  
He sat quietly in the shadow as the scene unfolded in front of him. There were three dead men that he did not recognize, on the floor. The men he had seen earlier, the woman, Donna, and several other people seemed highly upset about something.  
  
The man with green eyes was pacing the room. He looked a mix of scared and angry.   
  
“Where would they take him?” The taller man with longer hair asked. “Purgatory?”  
  
“I don’t know, Sam,” the green-eyed man said, both hands in his hair, looking more and more frustrated. “But we’re going to find him. He’s our dad. We won’t stop hunting for him if we have to tear Purgatory apart. Fuck those demons.”  
  
Demons? Castiel stepped out of the shadows slightly. Whoever these people were, they seemed to be in charge. He needed to find out if any of this had to do with John Winchester.  
  
He darted across the foyer, catching a scathing look from the woman with blonde hair. He sprinted down the hallway, enjoying how quickly and lightly he could move. He waited under a small table, watching for the men.   
  
It took quite some time, but they finally came down the hall, going into a room with a large table. The door was shut, but it soon opened when Donna brought them coffee.  
  
He snuck under a display case and listened. After the door shut, it took less than ten minutes to figure out that demons had broken into the bunker and stolen John Winchester. And John had an extensive past regarding demons.  
  
Sam and Dean, his older sons, were going after him. Now all Castiel had to figure out was how to undo the cat spell and how to stay with the Winchester boys.  
  
  
  
  
He woke the next morning, still sleeping under the display case. The room was empty of people and it was cleaned. He edged his way out of the room, heading back for the kitchen. He stuck closely to the walls and along furniture to go as unseen as possible. The smell of chicken cooking over the fire made his stomach growl with hunger. He had not eaten since Wednesday morning. Judging by the sun, it was after noon on Thursday.  
  
He carefully stole a piece of chicken from the bone pile, hauling it outside. It did not fill him, but he saw Dean in the stable and scampered over there, to see what he was doing. If John Winchester’s sons were traveling as far as Purgatory, maybe he could get home. If nothing else, he could find a witch along the way to help him with his latest predicament.  
  
He was dismayed to figure out that Dean was taking horses. He could have stowed away on a wagon. But he seriously doubted he could keep up with horses on foot. He watched Dean as he collected items for the trip and readied gear for the horses. He was handsome, with brown hair and green eyes. His speech was harsh, like the other humans. He was good to everyone in general, and yet, there was an edge to him that reminded him of John.   
  
He followed him into the tack room as he carried several bedrolls to stack with their gear. Dean had noticed him several times and had not shooed him away, making Castiel a bit braver.  
  
He watched as Dean sat down at the table to write a list of supplies he needed one of the grooms to get.  
  
If he could control that pencil, he could write Dean a note! He jumped up on the table, trying to pick up the pencil.  
  
Before he could manage anything, Dean picked him up. He remained limp in his hands, looking up at him. If only he could yell or make him understand who he was!  
  
Before any such thing could happen, Dean sat him atop a hay bale, giving him a pat.   
  
A pat!   
  
How rude.  
  
He meowed loudly, but Dean was gone, walking out of the barn while he talked to another man.  
  
Frustrated and forlorn, he crept into Impala’s stall. He knew this horse was Dean’s from how he fawned over her, detailing her coat and hooves with meticulous pride and care. The gigantic, black head of the horse loomed above him, sniffing him slightly. At least he could hide in here. And he would know when Dean left.  
  
He circled into the corner, laying down. If Gabriel could see him now. He had utterly failed him. Not only had he somehow turned himself into a cat, he had convinced John of nothing. AND, demons had come and stolen him, if not killed him. He had never been the cause of so much disappointment before. He felt ashamed, tucking his head down.  
  
He ventured out for dinner when it got dark. He found he only wanted meat. Again, he visited the bone pile, stealing enough meat to feel plenty full. He found his way back to Impala’s stall. She was a sound horse who seemed to not mind sharing his quarters.   
  
As evening set in, Castiel tried in vain to perform even the simplest magic. His grace was too strongly altered. There was nothing he could do, except wait for the Winchester children to start their adventure on the road. How he was going to tag along, he still didn’t know.  
  
The fresh hay of Impala’s stall provided a soft bed. He was a bit surprised when he woke, still in the dark, to the barn door opening.  
  
He stretched, feeling his long back rise in an arch that felt so good. He stretched out his paws, yawning.  
  
The barn lit up when the groom began lighting lanterns. Castiel crept from the stall, watching the boy pull the horses out to brush them. He went to the open tack room, sniffing the contents of the saddlebags.   
  
“You again.”  
  
Castiel turned, starting to run, but froze, staring up at Dean.   
  
“You were the one hangin’ around earlier.” He stooped down, picking him up. “You better not have peed on my gear.”  
  
Castiel felt appalled. He would never! He remembered with a rush how he needed to tag along with this group. He meowed, trying to get Dean’s attention.  
  
Dean looked at him, grinning.  
  
Oh...Castiel felt weak in the middle. To be grinned at with such sudden fondness! Dean’s hands, which seemed gigantic, held him against his chest. Castiel almost laughed aloud as he felt his tail flick back and forth with happiness.   
  
Dean stroked him as he walked over to Impala.  
  
Castiel wanted to balk at the familiarity this man assumed upon him, but of course Dean would pet a cat. People pet cats. It did not mean he had to like it. Though he supposed it was better than being shooed away. And Dean did smell rather good. Again, he was thankful Gabriel could not see him in such a vulnerable and awkward position.

“She looks good,” Dean said about his horse.  
  
“She’s sound as always,” the stable hand grinned. “And her manners are better than snippy Challenger.” He frowned at the black stud who threw his head, pulling at his cross ties.  
  
“He’s a hot head,” Dean grinned. “But he’s a big son of a bitch. And my long-legged brother needs the biggest beast in the barn.”  
  
Castiel found himself leaning snugly into Dean’s chest, accepting the stroking fingers under his chin with a tilt to his head. It was the intoxicating stroking that had his eyes closing in bliss.  
  
“Donna told me to come get the food she has ready for the trip. So, I’ll be back.” Dean turned, walking out of the barn, carrying Castiel, grinning down at him again.  
  
“You’re a big fella,” Dean grinned. “Bet you catch all the mice and keep my girl safe from nibbling-rats.”  
  
Castiel had never done such a thing. But to think Dean thought of him as protecting what was his, made him happy. Anything this handsome green-eyed man did, seemed to make him happy.  
  
Dean pushed the back door to the kitchen open.  
  
“Don’t bring that thing in here!” Donna yelled, eyes bulging and pointing at Castiel.  
  
“What?” Dean laughed. “He keeps the mice away. Or she.” Dean quirked an eyebrow, flipping Castiel over.  
  
Castiel’s eyes went wide when Dean upended him.  
  
Dean flipped him back upright. “Yep, it’s a boy.”  
  
Castiel’s mouth dropped open wide. What was meant to be a scathing slur about looking at another man’s privates, came out as a scathing hiss. His claws extended and he jumped out of Dean’s arms. He ran out the kitchen door and back to the stable.  
  
Dean was a filthy scoundrel for exposing him like this! He paced back and forth across the aisle. He tried to calm his racing heart and rationalize what had just happened to him.  
  
It wasn’t as if Dean had ripped his pants open and ogled at his penis. He had simply looked to see if the cat he had picked up was a male or female.  
  
Either way, he sat close to the stall wall, watching the horse’s saddles become more and more laden with supplies. They knew a trip was at hand. They tossed their heads with excitement and took antsy steps while in their cross ties.  
  
Dean came back into the stable with Sam, Adam, Kate, and Donna. They spoke about which path of travel they would take. None of the names of places were familiar to Castiel. He listened closely, nonetheless. If he became separated from them, he might have to find his own way.   
  
The first horse in line in the aisle was Challenger. He was untied from the lines and bridled, and handed off to Sam.   
  
Castiel approached Impala, springing up high to land atop the saddle. His claws dug into the sleeping roll and saddle, steadying himself as the horse danced a step to the side.  
  
He wedged himself between the back rise of the saddle seat and the sleeping roll.   
  
Adam got a leg up to Wisconsin, taking the reins and walking the horse out of the stable.   
  
“Get down.” Dean shoved him out of the space he had found. He scrambled down, running out of the stable and away from the harshness.  
  
“Crazy-ass cat,” Dean muttered.   
  
If Castiel did not figure something out, he would be behind. He ran up to the child, meowing to get his attention.  
  
The boy looked down, seeming a mountain above him. He grinned.  
  
Castiel meowed again, getting a chuckle from the boy.  
  
He needed to be cute enough that the boy would let him come along.  
  
He rolled onto his back, pawing his own tail, such as he had seen kittens do. The boy giggled. Castiel got to his feet quickly, pacing in a circle. He jumped into the saddle, just in front of the boy, careful not to claw him.  
  
“Hey, kitty!” Adam petted him and Castiel tried to act as though he enjoyed it.  
  
“Don’t be silly,” Kate laughed. “You can’t take a cat with you.”  
  
“I’ll drop him off when we pass my friend Stevie’s house,” Adam said.  
  
Kate held back a wobbly grin. “Alright.” She pulled Adam down to her so she could kiss his cheek and hug him. “Be a good boy for your brothers. No whining.”  
  
“I don’t whine,” Adam frowned. He looked quite put out by that.  
  
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “Of course, you don’t. You’re getting so big. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”  
  
“Love you too, Mom,” Adam said, much less confidently.  
  
“Come on, Adam,” Dean called cheerfully, “it’ll be dawn soon. I wanna see sunrise from Martin Road.”  
  
Sam stepped up next to them on Challenger, giving the cat a curious look.  
  
Adam tapped his heel, nudging the horse easily to a brisk walk. Adam was so small in his saddle that there was room for Castiel to curl up in front of him. Adam laid a hand on him, reins in the other. For six, he was handling the riding and departing from his mother quite well. But his nervous hand kept up a litany of petting. As a nephilim, Castiel would never have tolerated such breach of personal space. But he needed to think like a cat to make it through this.  
  
Dean took the lead, Adam in the middle, with Sam taking the rear. Castiel watched the town go by. This was a different side of town, but it looked much the same with its rows of houses. As they neared the edge of town, the houses became further apart, changing to small farms.  
  
The sun rose on their right, meaning they were heading north. The houses became less frequent, with large fields between. Many of them already harvested for the season. Some lay sprawling, heavily laden with crops. They looked so much smaller than the crops stimulated and enhanced at home. As the sun rose higher, traffic on the road increased. Castiel stayed snugly seated with Adam. For such a young child, he was quiet and watchful. If he were a nephilim, he might peg him for Michael’s Legion. Brave, quiet, watchful. Not as solemn as his own legion.   
  
“This is Stevie’s house,” Adam said quietly. Castiel looked up at the boy. He turned his face downward, continuing quietly. “You can stay with me though,” he whispered.  
  
Castiel snuggled in tighter, Adam continued with his petting.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief as the farm disappeared behind them.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted the first three chapters to get you started with a bang! The quest has officially begun as they search for John.  
> I am going to try to post a map with this at some point. It will help give you an idea of what their travels look like.  
> How am I doing guys? I hope you are liking this!


	4. Uncle Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for John has begun. They get some much needed back-up. Castiel learns how to be a little more cat-like.

Chapter 4. Uncle Bobby

Four hours into their trip, Dean stopped them on the side of the road near a stream. “This is a good spot to water the horses and have some lunch.”

The brothers dismounted, Castiel jumping down into the grass. He ached into a stretch, stiff from holding a tense position on the saddle.

“Why’d you bring that cat?” Dean asked, giving him a wary look.

Castiel slunk back a step, making himself smaller.

“He’s cool,” Adam grinned, pulling his boots off.

“Well, he scratched the shit outta me this morning,” Dean complained, pulling out a wrapped bundle. They sat down, letting the horses graze and drink at will. 

Dean handed out chunks of salted ham, chunks of bread, and cups to get water.

They ate quietly, watching as another group stopped to do the same. Castiel wondered what he would eat. He came to sit next to Adam.

Adam tore off a piece of ham, holding it out to him. Castiel took it, making his meal in the grass.

“Great,” Sam snickered. “Now we have four mouths to feed.”

“Five,” Adam grinned, “if you count Dean twice. Which you should.”

Sam roared with laughter as Dean threw a pine cone at his little brother.

“You gonna leave the cat here?” Sam asked, watching Castiel.

“He’s no bother,” Adam shrugged. “And he rides real good.”

“Well,” Sam continued, getting to his feet to stretch, “I’m not chasing him if he gets away.”

Adam gave Castiel a worried look. “He won’t wander off. Will ya?”

Castiel shook his head no.

Adam’s face lit up. “Did you see that?”

Neither Sam or Dean had caught the exchange, both busying themselves with packing up.

Adam turned back to him, staring with an open mouth. “Yer smart, aren’t you?”

Castiel wondered if he should keep this up. They might think him a skin walker or some witch’s familiar. Either way, they might not tolerate his presence. He looked away, hearing Adam sigh sadly.

“Well, yer good, anyhow. You stay with us. Stay away from any dogs. You’ll be fine.” The boy patted his head, getting to his feet.

Dogs? The thought made him shiver.

Sam lifted Adam up into his saddle, handing him the reins. “You’re doin’ great, Adam.”

He grinned and the horse began walking.

Castiel walked quickly to him, meowing. His meow was cut short when two big hands scooped him up. He turned to see Dean carrying him.

“Forget something?”

Adam stopped the horse, taking Castiel from him. Castiel settled in quickly, making himself secure behind the horn on the saddle.

They walked quickly for hours. They only stopped briefly to pee or give the horses water. Otherwise, they rode quietly on and on as the day faded to dark.

“Dean! We need to stop. Adam won’t be able to walk tomorrow, let alone ride.”

Dean sighed in resignation. “Yeah, alright.”

They left the road for the first time that day, walking into the woods just far enough to find a place to make camp and sleep.

Castiel made himself busy, scouting around the campsite, smelling the woods and looking for any danger. He came closer to the fire, where Dean was cooking something on a frying pan, and Sam was brushing the horses. He wished he could help. As a Mage, he could make them dinner, start the fire, boil the water, take away any aches or pains. But for now, he was just a useless cat.

“Kate said to remind you to do your flash cards,” Sam hollered from over by the horses.

Adam groaned.

“Come on, grub,” Dean grinned. “Read me your words while I cook.”

Adam went to his saddlebag, returning with a pack of cards. He turned so he could see them in the firelight. “Two. Ten. Tuesday. Thursday. Tell. Tent.”

Castiel got up, heading over to the growing pile of cards on the ground by Adam’s feet. He pawed through them, finding Thursday. Maybe if he could tell Dean he was a Mage, he could get some help. He picked the card up, taking it to Dean.

Dean was kneeling on one knee as he turned the meat in the frying pan over. He looked down at him. “Whatcha got there?” He took the card from Castiel’s mouth. “Thursday. Adam, your cat is eating your cards.”

“Hey!” Adam laughed, snatching the card back from Dean. “Bad cat!” 

Castiel looked between the two, trying to think of what to do next. He retrieved the card again, dodging Adam’s hands and running back to Dean.

Dean laughed, taking the card. “Thursday, huh? That what we should call you?”

Castiel meowed, turning in a circle. Yes! Mage of Thursday!

Dean and Adam both laughed. “Thursday it is,” Dean chuckled. “Guess you want some dinner too.”

Castiel meowed plaintively. Dean handed the card back to Adam again.

He laid down, unsure of what to do. He watched as Dean pulled his flannel shirt off. Castiel noticed with a curious look, that Dean’s forearm had several sigils tattooed onto it. They did not appear to only be decorative. They seemed deliberate. He tried to look at them closer, but Dean was now peeling potatoes and moving and blocking them. They were not just tattoos. They were sigils of some sort. The style reminded him of witch sigils, but he did not recognize any of them. He wished he could ask what they were for.

After eating, Castiel decided to discover what new abilities he may have as a cat. He darted through nearby bushes, testing his speed and agility. He circled the trunk of a tree, staring up at it curiously. He had not tested his claws much. He put his front paws on the tree, sinking his claws into the giving bark. After several practice placements where he extended and retracted his claws in the bark, he began to climb.

He had not climbed a tree since he was a child. This was entirely different. Though his legs worked hard, it was more about how he dug his claws in. He would have laughed at the pure joy of the moment when he reached his first limb, taking the chance to perch upon it, but all that came out was a meow.

“Don’t go too high!” Adam warned, seeing him. 

Castiel was barely above the height of Sam and Dean’s heads, he certainly could go higher! He began climbing, passing branch after branch until they were too thin to support him securely. He turned, sitting on a limb. The leaves were so large in comparison to his small frame. The birds were even larger. He longed for his new-found wings. If only he could soar away like a bird.

Then he looked down.

Oh dear.

He had gone much higher than he realized.

The way down would be entirely vertical! The mere thought made him stress greatly. He attempted to climb down, realizing the feel was completely different.

He meowed.

It was fully dark now. Even the fire had burned low.

He meowed louder.

“Is that the cat?” Sam asked, looking around.

“Oh no,” Adam sighed, sitting up in his sleeping roll. “Thursday went up that tree.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, looking up.

Castiel meowed louder.

“He’s up there somewhere,” Dean sighed, obviously put-out about having to worry about it.

“We gotta help him!” Adam said. 

Yes! Help! Oh sweet, gentle Adam. He truly was a kind-hearted child.

“He’ll figure it out,” Dean chuckled. “He’s a cat.”

No! No, I will not figure it out! I’ll be trapped here! You’ll leave without me! Castiel meowed pleadingly.

“I think he’s scared to come down,” Sam muttered, getting to his feet with a groan. “Adam, you shouldn’t have brought him.”

“Well...maybe he’s just used to barns and kitchens! Maybe he never climbed a tree before!” Adam reasoned, his voice ticking higher with worry.

“Come on, you dumb cat!” Dean yelled.

“Don’t yell at him!” Adam defended.

“I can’t even climb that high, Adam,” Dean said irritably. “He’s on his own.”

Castiel stared down at the camp below. Dean got out of his bed roll, staring upward into the tree, not seeing him in the dark night. Sam and Adam stood at the trunk staring upward as well. Dean was right. They could not reach him. And he had done this to himself.

He began gingerly feeling out onto the main trunk again, sinking his claws in. He had clung only three steps before he lost his grip, falling, hit a branch, then another, and more, crashing and falling until he clung to a limb, completely terrified. 

I am a terrible cat! I can not do this! Gabriel! Gabriel, please come get me!

He yowled in shock when his branch rocked slightly and a hand gripped it. 

Adam, lifted high by Sam, let go of the branch to grab him. All three almost toppled, but Sam managed to steady them enough to put Adam on his feet.

Thank you! Thank you!

“Shh, you’re okay,” Adam said softly, petting his head. Castiel clung to the child’s shirt, his head shoved under his chin as he tried to catch his breath. He didn’t even care if he was being petted. It was all very grounding after being so aloft.

“He alright?” Sam asked, petting him once.

“Just scared,” Adam insisted.

Adam sat down with him, trying to hold onto him longer, but Castiel had a need to be touching the ground on his own. He sat close by in the grass. That had been a terrible mistake. He would never do that again.

He looked over at Dean, who lay in his bed roll again. He was staring at him with a smirk. 

“Bet you won’t do that again.”

Castiel was too angry to even roll his eyes. His eyes did narrow to slits, his ears pinning back.

“Don’t get pissed at me! I didn’t put you up that tree!”

Castiel growled.

“Be nice, Dean,” Adam warned.

“You be nice,” Dean chuckled. “Go ta sleep.”

Adam laid down. “Come ‘ere, Thursday. Come sleep with me.”

Castiel was not sleeping with humans. He was not sleeping with anyone. He slunk away from the fire. If he was going to make this trip, he had better find a better way of fitting in. Otherwise, these people were going to kick him out and leave him along the road somewhere.

“Come ‘ere, Adam,” he heard Dean say quietly. “You don’t wanna sleep with a pissy cat.”

Cha. Pissy. Castiel huffed a haughty breath. YOU be a cat on the road. YOU go to a foreign land! You know nothing, Dean Winchester.

******************************

Dean startled awake to the horrendous sound of a growling, howling, screaming cat. Adam, who was tucked into his side, nearer to the fire, jolted awake the same time he did. They both sat up sharply.

One of the horses whinnied, and the cat continued its howling. Dean and Sam rushed to their feet.

“What is it?” Sam whispered harshly.

“No friggin’ clue. But that cat is pissed about something!” He turned as one of the horses reared, pulling on his tie.

“Thursday!” Adam yelled.

“Shh!” Dean snapped.

Adam shifted from foot to foot, trying to see his cat in the dark night. 

Dean pulled his gun out, walking toward the horses. “Get down, Adam.”

Adam crouched as Dean and Sam came at the horses from opposite ends. He headed straight for the cat. Impala’s eyes were big, fearing something out in the woods that Dean couldn’t see. His gun was raised and he came to a stop behind the cat. Its back was arched, hair standing on end, and tail puffed out huge. He was staring into the woods, growling and hissing.

A low branch moved and Dean trained his sight to the spot. A figure darted from the tree disappearing further off in the woods. Dean lowered his gun, looking down at the cat. “Guess you do come in handy. Good job.”

He picked up the cat and went back to the campfire, handing it off to Adam. 

“Did you see anything?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. One, maybe two, people out in the woods. Probably eyeing up our horses.”

Adam was hugging the cat, kissing his head, and telling him how brave and good he was. Dean had to laugh when Adam put him down and it shook itself off and skirted away.

“It’s good we brought him!” Adam said dramatically. 

Dean heard the familiar noise of someone creeping about. He turned, firing a warning shot. “Yeah, well, its good I brought this.” He shook his gun with a knowing smirk.

“Time to pack up,” Sam huffed.

“Yep.”

Adam went through the motions, but was quickly almost asleep by the time the horses were saddled.

Dean exchanged a look with his brother. He held up a fist. Sam grinned. They hit their fists into their palms four times. “Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Dean dropped his shoulders. “Dammit.” Who thought of this dumb game anyway? In what world did paper covering a rock matter one single bit?

Sam kicked dirt on what little remained of the fire, then walked around the site, making sure they had not left anything behind.

Dean found Adam asleep against a tree. He picked up the cat. If it hadn’t been for him, they might not have any horses right now. “Adam’s sleeping,” he mumbled to the cat, petting him. “So, you’ll have to ride Wisconsin on your own.”

The cat gave him a terrified look as he put him on the saddle. He actually pawed at the reins. Dean had to laugh. “Just kidding, Thursday!” He handed the reins to Sam, who was already mounted.

Challenger turned his head, ears pinned back and lips pulling back.

“I swear,” Dean growled, turning to glare eye to eye with the horse, “if you bite me, I’m gonna deck you.”

“He was just checkin’ you out,” Sam smirked, making the horse take a step away from Dean.

“He was just bein’ a dick, Sam. You better teach him some manners before he gets bit back.”

He hoisted Adam onto his shoulder, mounted, got Adam slumped against him, and they headed back to the road.

They rode the same pace as the day before, changing roads and passing through a small town Dean had been to before. Day two was always the hardest. You were usually much more sore than the first day. They stopped earlier, Dean scouting the area to make sure it was safer than last night’s site.

Deciding the little hill they were on gave them visibility and a clear shot to the road, he deemed it good enough for one night. They unsaddled the horses, tying them closer to the fire than the night before.

He pulled out food and a pot for dinner. It would be over an hour before they could even eat. It took water a while to boil when over an open fire. He glanced over, seeing Adam chasing fireflies. “Stay where I can see you, Adam.”

Dean settled back against his saddle. The cat came to sit next to him, looking at the fire. He had never seen a cat ride a horse like this guy. He pulled some cheese out of one of the packs, breaking off a tiny bite. “Do cats eat cheese?” He sat it on the ground close to him.

The cat looked at it, back at him, and got up to come eat it. Dean reached out to pet him. The cat looked up at him and Dean was curious about his blue eyes. He had never seen a blue-eyed cat before. He ran his finger under the cat’s tiny jaw, petting him. “I don’t know why you’re hangin’ out with us, Thursday. If we get attacked by demons, you better run like your tail is on fire. Better yet, you should find some people with a mouse problem and get a good home.”

The cat shook his head no. Dean frowned down at it. Those blue eyes looked like he understood everything he was saying. Dean frowned harder, tipping his head in wonder. “So...you’re staying with us.”

The cat blinked at him. The lid on the pot jiggled, telling him the water was finally boiling. He looked at it, looking back at the cat quickly. He could have sworn he nodded yes.

He added dinner to the pot, stirring it. 

“Do you think the guy in the woods last night was tracking us or just after our horses?” Sam asked, sitting across from him.

“I don’t know. Been wonderin’ the same thing all day. I haven’t noticed anyone tailing us.”

“Me either,” Sam said quietly. “Maybe we shouldn’t be detouring to Uncle Bobby’s. What if being on the road gets us caught?”

“What if being on the planned route gets us caught?” Dean asked back. “I don’t even know if anyone gives a shit about us, Sam, but I can’t take the chance of losing Adam. Or you.”

“Or you, Dean,” Sam nodded. “Or Kate.” 

Dean nodded. He didn’t ask out loud, but only one real question burned in his mind. Was their dad alive? 

“Adam! Come on. Stay close to the fire now.” It was dark enough that visibility was becoming difficult. Adam ran over to them.

“Here,” Dean handed him two empty water skins. “Fill these up before it gets any darker.”

Adam took the skins and ran to the stream.

“I haven’t seen anything in the woods, have you?” Sam asked in a hushed voice.

Dean scanned the woods on the other side of the stream, watching for any movement. He’d felt on edge all day. “No. The horses are calm too. I don’t think whatever was lurkin’ around last night followed us.” He stirred the pot, put the lid back on and sat back against his saddle. 

“Hey, Dean,” Adam huffed, sitting the corked skins down. “Why did you fib to Mama? You told her we were goin’ to Campbells. But I think we’re goin’ to Uncle Bobby’s. How come?”

Dean stared at his little brother for a moment. Damn, he was smart. “Uncle Bobby’s is on the way. We’ll be at his house tomorrow for lunch. Then we’ll keep going and get to Grandpa Campbell’s in a few days. So, now what, smarty pants?” 

“Oh,” Adam nodded. “Hey, did you guys notice how Thursday watches us when we talk?”

All three of them looked at the cat, who pinned his ears back and shrunk down a bit.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, watching the cat critically. “He has blue eyes. Maybe he’s deaf.”

“Huh,” Adam furrowed his little brow, squatting down to the cat. “I don’t think so. I swear he laughed earlier today.”

Dean frowned. Before the cat could catch on, Dean snatched him by the scruff of the neck, standing up with the cat at arm’s length. The cat hissed and clawed. He pulled a knife out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Adam yelled, running at them.

Luckily, Sam was on the same train of thought. He jumped up quickly, grabbing Adam by the arm to stop him.

The cat squirmed wildly when it saw the knife. Dean pinned him, howling and all, between his arm and chest to get a better grip on him.

“STOP! Don’t hurt him!” Adam cried, punching at Sam as hard as he could.

“Stop,” Dean said harshly, stopping the cat’s struggling by catching it off guard. “This’ll only hurt if you’re a skinwalker.” He put the flat part of the silver blade to the pads of one paw. Nothing happened.

“Not a skinwalker,” Dean announced. “Settle down, Thursday.” He put the knife away and held the cat gently to his chest. “Sorry. Poor boy, your hearts beating like a caught rabbit’s.”

Sam let Adam go. He charged around the fire, swiping tears off his round cheeks with his fists, making his dusty face look dirty. He took the cat and slugged Dean on the shoulder.

Dean shook his head, watching him sit with a pout, cuddling his cat. He held his hands out in defense. “I had to be sure!” He looked at Sam for confirmation.

Sam stuck his bottom lip out in a puppy-dog pout. “Jerk.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bitch.”

He went back to the pot, stirring it and shifting it half off the heat. Being the oldest sucked sometimes. But he did feel bad for scaring the cat. Again.

*******************************************

Castiel watched Dean with annoyance. He was unpredictable. He wanted to trust him. He even wanted to like him. But then moments like that happened. If he could blast him with a powerful shove, he would. But for now, he was safest beside Adam. He hoped this ‘Uncle Bobby’ was a sheriff as well, or knew of a witch.

He went without any dinner, choosing to curl up tight into a ball under Adam’s saddle and sleep.

When the Winchesters were sound asleep, Castiel snuck out of his hiding spot and circled the camp. Sam and Adam slept soundly on their bedrolls. Dean sat up against his saddle, arms crossed over his chest, and chin down. He was supposed to be look-out, but he had fallen asleep over an hour ago. He scouted the other side of the camp, watching deep within the woods for anything out of place. Nothing stirred tonight.

He went back to his spot under the saddle, sleeping the rest of the night.

The next day started early. Adam rode with Sam, sleeping against his back, arms slung part-way around his hips. Dean had been quite kind this morning, making sure he had breakfast and water. He put him on Adam’s saddle, and pet his head. “Sorry ‘bout yesterday, Thursday.”

He mounted Impala and did not look back.

After a few hours, Adam on his own horse again, they rode much quicker, loping along a smooth road for over an hour.

Dropping back to a walk, Castiel thought he might howl with misery. Riding was certainly not for cats. He hoped ‘Uncle Bobby’ was a nice man who adored cats. He might never get on a horse again. He could just live out his life as a nice old man’s cat. Yes, that was what he would do.

They turned down a winding lane that Dean said led to Bobby’s house. Several abandoned looking wagons sat sadly in the fields along the lane. He wondered if Bobby was a repair man of sorts. A wagon builder, perhaps. Several horses milled about the fields of overgrown grass. An iron archway donned the lane with the words ‘Singer Salvage’ on the arch. As they wound around a bend in the lane, a blue house came into view. Odds and ends, metal parts and wagon wheels sat about. 

Castiel perked up in interest. A dog barked and came running toward the horses. Castiel could feel his fur stand on end as he hunched closer to Adam for protection.

“Hey, Rumsfeld!” Dean hollered. The dog barked, wagging his tail happily. He was a large dog. Some sort of bloodhound, if Castiel had to guess. Adam was quiet, watching as much as he was.

He could see the moment the dog caught his scent. His ears perked and his tail quit wagging. His barks turned sharper. Adam put a protective arm around him, frowning down at the dog. “Dean!”

Dean turned back just as a man came out onto the porch. “Rumsfeld! Down.” He whistled and the dog turned, running back to the porch.

The man wearing a hat came down the step of his porch with a big grin. “Well hello boys! This is a surprise!”

His smile disappeared instantly as Dean and Sam dismounted. They clasped forearms, thumbs placed on matching sigils. It seemed...intimately formal. It made Castiel even more curious about the sigils on their arms. Dean hugged the man tight. “Hey, Bobby.”

Castiel was surprised to hear the quaver in Dean’s voice.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam said quietly, clasping forearms and then hugging the man.

Bobby didn’t ask, noting something was wrong. “You here for a stay?”

“Just one night,” Dean nodded. “If that’s alright.”

“Course it is!” The man neared Adam, who was still clutching Castiel tightly.

“Hi, Uncle Bobby,” Adam said quietly.

Bobby smiled up at him. “Hey there, Adam. Look at you! So big on a full grown horse! That’s a good-lookin’ horse!” He patted Wisconsin’s side. “Can I give you and your friend there a lift down?”

Adam nodded, letting his reins go. Bobby lifted the pair of them down, sitting Adam on his feet.

“Is your dog gonna bite my cat?” 

Bobby turned to the dog. “Well, he best not, if he knows what’s good fer ‘im. Or we’ll be havin’ dog fer dinner.” He chuckled, in jest. “Just to be safe, we’ll keep the cat inside.”

The dog laid down on the porch, flopping over onto his side.

“His name is Thursday,” Adam said quietly, relaxing a bit.

“Thursday? Well, ain’t that a funny name!” He patted Adam’s shoulder as they followed him inside the two story blue house. 

When they were all inside, the door closed, Castiel jumped down to check the house out on his own. He still did not like being carried about. Bobby looked rough with his worn breaches, flannel (like the Winchesters wore), and dingy hat. Outside his house was a clutter of parts and unkempt fields. Inside was full of books. All sorts of interesting books. He got very excited when he saw some witch symbols, but soon realized he had just as many books on werewolves, vampires, kitsune, demons, and ghosts. Bobby was most likely a hunter. That was what the humans that hunted monsters were called.

After skimming the shelves in the library, he joined them in the kitchen, sitting on the counter to see them all better. Adam was on Dean’s lap, sniffling. Sam swiped a tear off his own cheek. And Dean looked like he was struggling to hold it together.

“No, we had no warning at all,” Sam answered Bobby’s question. 

“Ya know,” Dean pointed a finger, “I think we did. Some guy came late that night and met with dad. Dad said he was full of shit, but he told dad he was in trouble. I think he was warning him about the demons.”

Sam nodded. “It fits.”

“What kind of man?” Bobby asked, rubbing his beard and pacing the small kitchen.

“Uh...I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “Just some guy.”

“He had dark brown hair,” Dean began quietly, “he was a little shorter than me, he wore a tan cloak, like a long one you’d wear in winter, only his was thinner. And it was...nice. He musta been wealthy. I couldn’t see any sigils. And he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Bobby and Sam both quirked a grin. “Dude,” Sam laughed. “You saw him for the same two seconds I did!”

“He had really tall boots on. Black,” Dean continued. “And tight black breaches.”

Sam and Bobby both laughed when Dean finally cracked a grin. “He was pretty hot.”

Castiel was staring in wonder. Dean had thought he was attractive! And he was quite observant, even if he was wrong about why he had come. 

“What exactly did this ‘hot’ boy say?” Bobby smirked.

Dean frowned, more serious now. “He told Dad he was in danger. Well, I think he said ‘jeopardy’, but...yeah and he talked real formal too. But Dad told him he didn’t believe him and pretty much kicked him out.”

“Sounds like the John we all know and love.” Bobby went to the library pulling out a book. 

“The other thing I was wondering about was Bela Talbot. She’s in town.”

“I don’t know her,” Bobby said, looking up. 

“She’s one of our traders from Britland. She’s known for her crooked business dealing, but Dad always gives her a pass for some dumb reason. This last deal she put through is pretty standard stuff. No crazy deals. So, was she here just to distract him?”

“Britland, huh? Never had much dealings with them,” Bobby added.

“Well, we know a demon took him, Bobby,” Dean went on. “I have no idea if they...”. Dean swallowed hard. “Sam and I need to go find him.”

Bobby nodded.

“I don’t want you to go after bad people,” Adam whined, clinging to Dean.

Dean pried him off gently, sitting him on the table directly in front of him. “Adam. If you got stolen by a demon, Dad would hunt you down. Nothing would stop him. I’m going to bring Dad home.”

Adam nodded, trying not to sniffle. “I’d come after you,” he said in a tiny voice that had Dean pulling him onto him for a hug. 

“I know you would. That’s what family does.” He kissed the top of Adam’s head and just held him.

Castiel was so touched by the men. Nephilim were not nearly so physical with each other. A pat on the shoulder was a big deal in Knowledge. To walk hand in hand was seen as showy. Maybe families in Life were more like this. They were very giving. What few children there were, were raised with their parents, forming tighter bonds. Gabriel was more affectionate toward him than most other nephilim he had grown up with.

Bobby began making dinner. “So, what’s your plan?” He filled a pot with water and put it on the stove, adding wood to the compartment beneath the burner. 

“Well,” Sam sighed. “Kate is sending us to the Campbells.”

“I see,” Bobby said, waiting for more.

“Dean thought coming here was smarter,” Sam added.

“Damn right it was smarter,” Bobby went on chopping onions and carrots. “Let’s just say, me and ole Samuel don’t get on too well. Never did see eye ta eye.”

“You think he’s gonna make us stay there with him? For protection?” Dean asked.

“No. He’ll give you some half-assed scheme that MIGHT be right, hand ya some kind of weapon and send you out the door. Hunting is all that man knows.” Bobby shook his head.

Sensing Bobby was going to give them more insight, Dean stood up, putting Adam on his feet. “You go play with Rumsfeld. Stay close to the house though.”

Adam nodded, heading out the front door.

“He’s a good kid,” Bobby grinned.

“Yeah. But I’m worried the Campbells aren’t going to take him in,” Sam said quietly.

Bobby turned to him, spoon in hand. “They’ll take care of him. He’s John’s son. And he’s too little to hunt, even by Campbell standards.”

“But the Campbell’s are Mom’s family,” Sam said with doubt and concern.

“Family don’t end in blood, Sam. And your grandfather owes your dad a debt he can never repay.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Bobby?” Dean asked.

Bobby stirred the carrots and onions into the pot, adding a large chunk of venison. “Your dad suspected for years that it wasn’t his dealings with demons that got Mary killed. It was her father’s. Before your mother died, he and I were hunters together. But we never had much dealings with demons. Just weren’t ever many around. Ole Samuel was and still is one of the most cut-throat hunters out there. The Campbell family ancestors lost a lot in the War for Northland, what the monsters now call Purgatory. Their family had huge lands there. And he’s still one of the first hunters to cross into Purgatory to track a monster. The whole family is ruthless that way. You know I hunted with your dad for years. But he was a deliberate and fair hunter. The Campbells will seek out trouble. Stir it up and desecrate it. The Campbells have a lot of enemies in Purgatory.”

Dean got up, leaning against the counter where Castiel was perched, listening.

“I had no idea. I always thought it was Dad that brought the demon to Lawrence that killed Mom.”

“Oh, he blames himself. He had been after Azazel years before, getting into the family business with the Campbells. But I think it had much more to do with Mary and her dad than John.”

“So, why would demons take Dad?” Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I know you don’t hunt much anymore, Bobby, but I’m kinda hopin’ you’ll come outta retirement and come with us.”

“To the Campbells?” Bobby asked.

Dean nodded slowly. “I want to leave Adam with the Campbells and then go after these sonsabitches.”

Bobby looked back and forth between the boys. “That’s...yer dad ain’t gonna like that. Kate either.”

Dean stared at him boldly.

“Alright. Yeah.” Bobby went into the library, pulling a rolled paper out. “If we’re goin’ after Azazel, we’re gonna need a plan. One that doesn’t involve any Campbells sharin’ camp with us either.” He unrolled the paper, showing a big map of Lawrence. “Azazel, if he’s our guy, never lived in Lawrence. He’d just drop down, stir up trouble, and then leave. He lives in Purgatory. But I know a guy in Needham. That’s the port city in northern Lawrence. Ya can’t cross the ocean unless ya go outta Needham. The guy’s a...real dick, but he can help us get there.”

“We’re gonna get on a ship?” Dean asked, looking nervous.

“Yep. Most likely,” Bobby nodded. “If Azazel is in Purgatory, which is where he should be, we’ll need to cross the sea to Freeland. We just gotta figure out how we’re gonna get from Freeland to Purgatory.”

Dean and Sam nodded along. They seemed to trust Bobby a great deal. Even so, this entire rescue mission was getting larger all the time. Castiel wondered if he should even be joining them at this point. He was of little use. But perhaps the Campbells would know a good witch.

“I got a few things we should take along,” Bobby said with a wave, all three of them heading for the library.

Castiel jumped from the counter to the table to see the map better. On the maps in Haven, Lawrence was shaped the same, but were simply labeled Lawrence. No details. No roads or even physical features.

Likewise, Haven was a blank mass simply marked ‘Haven’ with an incorrect border at the north with that land marked ‘The Empty’.

This map of Lawrence had towns. Lots of them. And roads. Train tracks. Mountain ranges and rivers. He found Lebanon. He wondered where he was now. He followed Martin Road out of Lebanon, going north. He knew they had branched off three or four times from there. By his best estimate, they were somewhere outside of Sioux Falls. He saw no markings for the Campbells.

He had just started studying the towns in Freeland, when he was scooped up and sat back on the counter. Bobby rolled the map back up, putting a tie around it. He put it into a saddlebag.

Castiel jumped down, going back to the library. He could smell herbs and minerals. He noticed many places with witch sigils carved into the woodwork. Bobby had to know a witch. He wished he could just ask him. 

He looked all over the house, noting how humans lived much like nephilim, with bedrooms upstairs, a bathroom, fireplaces in their living room, books on bookshelves, and kitchens. Human kitchens were full of interesting things. Nephilim used grace power to cook. He looked at the stove, sensing how hot it was. It was smart. A fire contained in a metal contraption that they could cook over. Around and around the house, he wandered, noticing new things each time.

Their plumbing was a curious thing. It was a system of pipes into the floors that brought water into the house. That was similar to nephilim. But the toilet only went just outside down a hill. They must not have underground sewer systems like the nephilim did.

Everything was made of wood or metal. Stone seemed to be rarely used. Most nephilim homes were made of marble or another form of stone. He liked Bobby’s house. It felt warm. Wood was much more agreeable than stone. Much more welcoming. It bent with you, with time, like how trees grew in nature. Stone went suddenly and abruptly. Staunchly holding its own. He came back downstairs, curling up on a chair by the fireplace. There was no fire in it at the moment, but Castiel could feel the warm echo. 

Maybe he could communicate better with Bobby than he had with Dean, Sam, or Adam. As they filed back inside the house, gathering around the table, he watched them, and listened for any more plans or news.

He caught the sight of a waving hand. Dean was laying out bits of venison for him on the floor.

Castiel sprung up, not realizing how hungry he had been. He sat next to Dean’s leg, eating all Dean put on the floor for him.

He was even more excited when Dean sat his bowl on the floor. It had leftover broth from the stew. Castiel ate his fill. The salty stew was delicious. What he needed now was water. He went to the sink, but there was no water coming from the faucet. 

He went back to Dean, putting his front paws gently on his thigh.

Dean looked down at him, smiling with a bit of surprise. 

Castiel meowed, hoping Dean could figure out that he needed water.

He reached down, petting him. 

Castiel meowed again.

“Whatsa matter?” Dean said quietly, scooping him up to his lap. 

Castiel meowed plaintively. Dean gave him a puzzled look. He looked down at the bowl of stew, licked almost clean. He looked back at Castiel. “I got no clue, Thursday.”

Castiel turned to the others, but they were in heavy conversation, Bobby recounting when Sam was Adam’s age and still learning to ride a horse.

Castiel pushed his way out of Dean’s hands to the table, sticking his head into Dean’s cup. It was beer, but it would do.

Dean pulled the cup away, laughing. “No beer for cats.”

“He’s probably thirsty,” Bobby noted, going back to his story, making Adam giggle.

Dean got to his feet, filling a bowl with water and sat it on the floor. Castiel meowed at him, wishing he could just say ‘thank you’.

“You’re welcome,” Dean grinned, going back to the table.

Castiel sat there stunned for a moment. It had almost felt like a conversation. He wanted to talk to these people so badly. Dean was defending his brother in Bobby’s recounted tale. Castiel longed to pull up a chair and laugh along. Ask questions. Be a part of this group.

He took his much needed drink and was struck with a wave of sadness. Where was Gabriel? Why hadn’t he come for him? Why had he sent him and left him here in a land of strangers? He made his way back to the chair by the fireplace, staring at its empty grate forlornly. Maybe Gabriel had come back and found his messenger had failed.

He was sore. And he was tired. And he was a mighty fallen nephilim stuck in a cat’s body. Eating off the floor and glad to have the food. Begging for something as simple as water. His saddest, loneliest days as a faceless child in the children’s ward at Knowledge were nothing compared to his current situation.

**************************************************

Dean brushed Impala’s sleek black coat until it shone. She was beautiful on her own. When you shined her up, she was absolutely stunning.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, running his hand down her muscular shoulder. “That’s my baby.”

She nudged him with her head.

Bobby came to the pen Dean was grooming in. Bobby’s barn was only big enough to hold two horses, and he had one of his own. “Bad news.”

Dean stopped brushing, looking at Bobby. “What?”

“Trigger’s foundering. He ain’t gonna make the ride.”

“Shit,” Dean swore, pacing away from Impala to the railing near Bobby. “Well, Adam can ride with me or Sam and you can ride Wisconsin.”

Bobby nodded. “Alright. That’ll work. I need ta see Sheriff Mills before we leave town. See if she’ll take care of the place while I’m gone.”

Dean nodded. He went back to Impala, cleaning her hooves out. He saddled her, tying his saddlebags and bedroll behind the saddle.

He did the same with Wisconsin as Sam came out to get Challenger ready.

“Dean.”

Dean finished buckling the girth and turned to see Adam sitting on the top rail holding the cat in his lap.

“What’s up?”

“Somethin’s the matter with Thursday. Look.” Adam lifted the cat up. He looked pissed.

“Leave him alone, kiddo.”

“But look at his face.”

“He’s a cat. They always look mad.”

Adam sighed. “He’s not happy, Dean. I think he’s sad.”

“Well, maybe he wishes he woulda stayed home.” Dean gave the cat a cursory glance. “Give him something to eat and drink. I don’t know!“ 

“I tried that. He won’t eat!” Adam fretted.

“I don’t know what to tell ya, man. Maybe he’s homesick.”

Adam stayed on the rail, holding the miserable cat until they were ready to leave. Bobby locked his house up and they mounted. Sam mounted first because Challenger kept trying to nip him. 

“Here, you take him.” Adam handed Dean the cat. He was right, there was no fight in him. No squirm or curiosity.

“You shoulda stayed home little buddy.”

Bobby mounted, following Sam on the long, winding lane that led through Bobby’s property. “Leave it here.”

Dean mounted, cat in his arm. “Nah. We’ll figure somethin’ out. He’s probably just tired. He comes in pretty damn handy at night.” He followed the others, letting Bobby take the lead. Bobby knew these parts better anyway. “Whatsa matter, Thursday?” He let Impala have her reins, knowing she would follow Bobby’s lead. He held the cat up in front of him, staring into his big blue eyes. “You sad? You sick of us dumb Winchester boys already?” He grinned as those blue eyes blinked slowly. “It was Bobby’s stew, wasn’t it? He never could cook,” Dean whispered, pulling the cat back into his chest. At least he had his attention now. “One time, when I was like ten, I caught a rabbit and brought it to him. He stewed that poor thing until it was no more than a hamster.” He chuckled at his own memory. He glanced down at the cat, seeing how closely he watched him. He arched a brow down at the thing. He might as well keep yammering. The cat seemed to like it. “Adam doesn’t know Bobby like Sam and I do. He only sees him at Christmas and over the summer. But Bobby used to be...well, they’re still friends. He’s friends with my dad.” His voice dropped a bit quieter. “When I was four, a demon came and killed my mom. Burned our house down.” He rode quietly for a moment, deep in memories of his mother and those early days. He and Sam had grown up in small places in towns, moving around from time to time. They weren’t poor. But they certainly had not grown up like Adam.

“She was so...well, I don’t really remember her much. But anyway, my dad went kinda shitty for a while. When things got bad, we went to Bobby’s. He took good care of us.” The cat was still watching him intently. “He used to get so drunk, it would take me days to find him. He’d be in some back-alley brothel or in the gutter, passed out. Meanwhile, Sam and I were tryin’ to have lives of our own. We moved around a lot. Then Dad would leave on hunts. Just...leave us. If we could, we’d go to Bobby’s if he was gone too long.” He sat lost in thought of that turbulent time until a tiny, soft paw touched his jaw. It brought him back to the present, and to the attention of the cat he was holding. He grinned. “So anyway, Bobby sucks as a cook, but he’s as good a person as you could ever wish for.”

He pulled the cat up so his little head was close to his mouth. “Don’t tell anybody, but I don’t ever want to be like my dad. I’m not gonna be sheriff someday. I don’t want to take care of everyone else’s problems. Just my own. I’m gonna live in a house just outside of some town and have my own boot shop.” He kissed the cat on top of the head, grinning. “I’m not runnin’ a shop. I’ll just sell in town at the market. How’s that sound? You wanna sell boots with me?”

The cat meowed, bumping his head onto Dean’s chin in affection. He dreamed about having his own little house. He should have made a move sooner. But maybe this was the wake-up call he needed. He loved his dad very much. He had been a much, much better father the past ten years. But being a public servant, a sheriff, did not appeal to him. He wanted a private, simple life. And love. As sappy as it sounded, that’s what he wanted.

They finally got to the main road and Bobby took them back into the nearest town, which was fine, because they had to change routes to head more north to get to the Campbells. He stopped in front of the sheriff’s house. Dean dismounted, sitting the cat on his saddle to stay with Impala.

Jody came out her front door. “Morning, Bobby! What’s got you -“ a look of surprise lit her face. “Dean? Sam? Wow! You boys just keep on getting taller!”

Dean grinned, hugging her. “Hi, Jody. Good to see you.”

“You too!” They clasped forearms, Dean noticing her sigils were the same as he remembered them. She looked at his arm with a perceptive little grin. “And is this Adam?” They let go of each other’s arms, turning. Adam gave her a friendly wave from behind Sam, who stayed mounted.

“Sure is,” Bobby grinned. “The boys and I are takin’ a trip up north to their grandparents place. Can you keep an eye on my place for awhile?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “I’ll have one of my girls stay up there.”

“Thanks, Jody. They can take care of Rumsfeld. Ole Trigger is foundering.” He handed Jody a small sack. “Have the vet come see him, would ya? And tell whoever is stayin’ there to keep him in the stable. No more field turn-out until he’s better.”

“Sure thing.” She took the bag with a nod. “When will you be back?”

Bobby glanced at Dean. He stepped closer to Jody, talking quietly in her ear. Jody’s face fell. “Good luck. Here, take this.” She handed him her pistol. Guns were hard to come by anymore. 

“I got one,” Bobby said, shaking his head no. “But thank you.”

She frowned. “Then you’ll have two. I have more bullets inside. Silver ones too. I’ll be right back.”

Bobby took the gun reluctantly.

“Just take it, Bobby. We’ll probably need it,” Dean said quietly. “Sam and I each have one, but an extra won’t hurt.”

Bobby nodded. “Alright.” He took the bag of bullets Jody brought out, putting them in his saddlebag. 

“Safe travels,” Jody nodded solemnly. 

“See ya when I see ya,” Bobby grinned, patting her shoulder and mounting.

Dean wondered, for not the first time, why Bobby had never pursued anything more with Sheriff Mills. They had been friends as long as Dean could remember.

They said their good-byes and headed north on Johnson Road. Dean was relieved to have Bobby with them. He may have been on hunts before, and he certainly had done his fair share of adventuring, but knowing Bobby was with them made him feel a lot more confident.


	5. Campbell Compound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble on the road and a steely welcome from Grandpa Campbell.

Chapter 5: Campbell Compound  
  
  
Castiel had grown accustomed to traveling on a saddle. It was not that he was enjoying himself, per se, but he rode with more confidence. He had been riding with Dean for two days now. He spent a great deal of his time wedged between Dean’s lower back and the bed roll. Impala had a steady stride. Dean had a steady hand. He found he could even sleep when snuggled into his new position.  
  
He prowled their campsites at night, always watching and listening for any intruders. The past two nights had been quiet. Other than a curious skunk, nothing had tried to disrupt the travelers or their horses.  
  
He was unsure, the longer this trip took, if he had made the right choice. He should be seeking help for his current dilemma. He should have looked for a witch when they stopped to talk to the Sheriff, Jody. He feared quite often that he would never hold a human form again. The thought made him shake with worry at times.  
  
He was becoming increasingly attached to these people, Dean particularly. He loved his quiet steadiness. He was fascinated with how comfortable and relaxed they all were with each other. The way, at times, Sam knew what Dean wanted without speaking a word. The way they cared for each other. Their determination to find and rescue John Winchester.   
  
He appreciated their kind way with the horses and himself. He wondered often if they would be kind if they knew who he was. Their father had seemed quite unimpressed, if not belligerent, when he was a messenger, a nephilim, or what these men called sprites.  
  
Men had lost their faith in angels during the apocalypse. They were left as bystanders to powerful displays of atrocities from beings they thought were either not real or heavenly beings only there to protect and love them. The wars had destroyed faith, their lands, most of the people, and offered nothing in recompense. It was no wonder they fought so hard to keep separate. Even though the angels were all gone now, and what remained was their children’s, children’s, children; pale copies of their parentage, and their distaste made more sense the longer he was among them.  
  
They certainly had no need of nephilim. They thrived all on their own. So, if he ever took his natural form again, it worried him what Dean, Adam, Sam, and Bobby would think of him. Would they be angry? Repulsed? Excited? It was impossible to guess. And no day passed without Castiel fretting every scenario.  
  
The horses came to a stop on the road. Castiel sat up from his warm spot, looking around and smelling the air.  
  
Dean was tense in his saddle, looking in all directions.  
  
Quickly changing from awake to alert, Castiel shoved his head between Dean’s elbow and his side, coming to the front of the saddle.  
  
Dean moved, allowing him through. Impala took a nervous step to the side. Castiel could smell her fear. His claws extended, securing himself to the saddle in front of Dean.   
  
“What is it?” Adam whispered loudly.  
  
“A storm, for one,” Bobby said quietly.  
  
Castiel crouched low, peering into the woods on the right side of the road. There was a faint foul smell on the air. He had no idea what it was. He felt the low pressure in the air, the humid tinge on the breeze. Yes, a storm was coming. But what had his fur standing on end and his tail stiff as a board was not a storm. There was something lurking in the woods. Something watching them.  
  
They moved on, more watchful, until they stopped at a clear spot on the side of the road hours later. It was raining now, and a rumble brewed to the north. Castiel had spent a good deal of time sharing Dean’s saddle. Whether he was tucked behind him or perched in front of him, the two had learned to share the limited space rather well. With the rain, Castiel was parked just in front of Dean, leaning into his trunk, tucked beneath his coat. Dean smelled like the leather chairs in the great libraries of the Stacks. He smelled like hay and horse, and a manly smell he decided must just be Dean. He was very careful to keep his claws away and make the best of the rainy ride.  
  
Free of the confines of Dean’s coat, he scouted the campsite. The rain dampened the smells, but he still picked up trails from frogs, rabbits, and squirrels. When the breeze gusted from the south, he picked up the foul scent faintly. Wet dog was his gut instinct, but he’d never smelled a dog quite like this before. They ate a cold dinner just under the trees to stay out of the rain.  
  
While the people all fell asleep, Castiel’s unease grew. He stayed up through the night to watch over them.  
  
It was hours into the night when Castiel caught the faint smell of wild, foul dog again. It was the same smell he remembered from the road earlier that day.

He prowled silently. Finally, he was sure he had seen something move deep in the woods.  
  
He ran to Dean, jumping onto his chest.  
  
“What!” Dean sat up, looking around.  
  
Castiel meowed loud.  
  
Dean scratched his head, still waking up.  
  
Castiel meowed again, stepping toward the woods.  
  
Dean looked at the woods, getting to his feet. “Sam, Bobby.”  
  
Seeing Dean had woken and taken him seriously he crept closer to the woods, stopping to watch between the trees.  
  
A low growl began deep in his chest.  
  
Something between the trees was slinking closer to them. He knew, somehow, this was no dog. It was a wolf. The smell was wilder, gamier.  
  
He hissed when a tree limb creaked.  
  
Dean pulled his gun out, aiming into the dark. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered hoarsely to Sam, “but Thursday’s on attack mode.”  
  
Castiel thought he could make out a figure crouched behind a tree. He darted into the woods, dodging bushes and underbrush, rounding tree after tree. He stopped just under a bush, seeing the figure in the moonlight. He was quite sure it was a werewolf. They were skinnier, larger, and more angular than regular wolves. The golden glow of the wolf’s eyes picked him out easily in the dark.  
  
It’s a werewolf! He tried to yell. All that came out was loud, angry meowing.  
  
The wolf swiped a long arm viciously at him. It would have been enough to slice him to shreds, but Castiel darted out of the way, yowling loud. The wolf’s attention went back to the camp, deciding Castiel was no real threat.  
  
Bobby was yelling something about silver and the wolf began to creep toward them, malice evident in every creeping stride.  
  
Castiel ran at the wolf, jumping onto its back, claws digging in, and biting down hard. Fur and blood filled his mouth as the wolf reared up with a yelp. The wolf twisted, thrashing, and snapping at him.  
  
  
  
***********************************************  
  
  
Dean lowered his gun when the wolf dropped dead. Sam had Adam in his arms, knife held out in defense.  
  
The wolf didn’t move. He nodded at Bobby. Bobby’s shoulders dropped only slightly in relief. His shotgun still held high, he continued scanning the woods, as did Sam and Adam.  
  
Dean gave the woods nearest him a cursory glance as he stepped in, approaching the werewolf. He was still in the form of a wolf, bony and sparsely covered with patches of wiry fur. His eyes were open and dull, his tongue hanging out. His razor-sharp teeth visible easily enough in the moonlight. His body began to shrivel back into human form. Brown hair, dirty skin. He was dead, whoever he had been.   
  
“It’s dead,” Dean called, nudging its shoulder with his foot. He knelt, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. Its back bore claw marks and a bite. Thursday must have been the reason the wolf had jumped up yelping. It had given them the precious few seconds they needed for him to reload his gun with silver bullets. He scanned the woods nearby. “Thursday!” He whispered loud. The cat had saved them all.  
  
He shoved the body over, making sure the cat was not pinned underneath. He searched around the brush, but it was thick and tangled. A noise caught his attention. He froze where he squatted on the ground, aiming his gun into the night.   
  
A form came into view too late for Dean to see, before he shot another werewolf coming for him. Another bang rang out, making Dean flinch. A wolf dropped on his left.  
  
Dean watched, listening for any movement.  
  
“Let’s go!” Sam yelled. “The horses are ready!”  
  
Adam had already mounted on Challenger, eyes wide, hands clinging to the reins. Bobby was heading toward Wisconsin at a run.  
  
Dean stood, searching the area for the cat. “Thursday!” He yelled, shoving bushes aside.  
  
“Dean!” Bobby yelled. “There could be more! Let’s go!”  
  
Dean stepped back. Dammit. That cat had saved their lives. It seemed wrong to leave him. “Thursday!”  
  
“Dean!” Sam yelled.  
  
Dean ran back to Sam, who was struggling to hold onto Challenger and Impala, both were antsy with wide eyes, and ears pinned back. He took Impala’s reins. Sam mounted Challenger.   
  
“I gotta find the cat,” Dean said angrily, knowing he should just leave. Knowing if it were anybody else, he would shove their ass on a horse, slap its rear and send them out of here at a run.   
  
“Dean!” Sam balked, pulling Challenger back.   
  
“There!” Adam yelled, he pointed, and almost launched off the horse, had Sam not clamped an arm around him.  
  
Dean looked back, gun raised again. At the edge of the woods, he saw a small black mound moving.  
  
Dean ran, looking down at the cat. He scooped him up, still scanning the woods. He ran back to Impala, jumped on and took off with the others. They rode hard for several miles before slowing to a trot.  
  
As dawn broke, they entered a small collection of buildings or houses that might pass for a small town. They went to a well at the center of the two main roads crossing and dismounted.  
  
“Is he alive?” Adam asked, running to him.  
  
“Honestly, I couldn’t see.” Dean hesitated to loosen his hold on the cat. “Now I’m just kinda scared to look.”  
  
Bobby pulled up a bucket of water for the horses, and dug out cups for them to get a drink.  
  
Adam took his jacket off, laying it on the ground. Dean knelt, opening his arm. The cat hung limply. Dean sighed as he laid him down.  
  
His front paws stirred weakly. “He’s alive,” Dean said quietly, feeling relieved for the little guy.  
  
“Here,” Sam pointed. The cat’s side clearly matted with blood. Dean began probing the fur.  
  
“Here we go,” Dean muttered, finding a gash in his side about four inches long.  
  
“I’ll get the medic gear,” Sam said, getting to his feet, heading for Wisconsin.  
  
“Get me a bucket of water, Bobby.” Dean got on his knees more steadily, readying himself to stitch the cat. “Adam, get the vodka.”  
  
Adam jumped up, heading to Impala to dig through a saddlebag.  
  
“Get two of my shirts while you’re in there,” Dean called. He looked back down at the cat. “If a werewolf bites you, you turn into one. What happens if you bite a werewolf?”  
  
Bobby sat a full bucket next to Dean. “Werewolf venom is in their incisors. I think...well, hell, I’m not sure of anything.”  
  
Dean sighed. “I can’t believe I’m using our medic gear on a freakin’ cat.” He didn’t mean it. Really. “But he did save our asses.”  
  
“We woulda died in our sleep if he hadn’t woken you up,” Sam added, bringing a leather bag full of supplies.   
  
Adam came with the vodka and shirts. “What are you gonna do to him?”  
  
Dean thought as quickly as he could, lining up his gear. “I’m gonna douse him with water so I can see what the hell I’m doing. Then I’m gonna pour vodka on it. Bobby, thread a needle. Sam, you gotta hold him down.”  
  
Sam looked reluctant to take such a task, but he posed his hands over Thursday’s shoulders and hips.   
  
“Okay,” Dean blew a breath out, ready for the cat to turn into a feral monster, “here we go.”  
  
He tipped the bucket, dousing the cat. The cat’s eyes popped open and he yowled in pain as Sam pinned him down.  
  
“Hang in there, Thursday,” Dean hissed, seeing the gaping wound. “This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, buddy.”  
  
He poured the vodka, making the cat squirm only slightly. It huffed and puffed tiny breaths but did not fight. He began stitching quickly. Sam’s hands lifted away halfway through the stitching. The cat stayed still, huffing his little chest, and blinking his big blue eyes.   
  
“A smart and little tough guy,” Dean muttered, finishing the stitches. “One more time buddy.” He poured vodka on the stitched site. He dabbed a cloth, drying the area the best he could. Then wrapped a bandage over the new stitches.  
  
Dean took his shirts, tying them together to make a sling to carry the cat. “Okay, Adam, your job is going to be to carry the cat without bumping him too much.”  
  
“Okay,” Adam whispered. He held the cat to his chest as Dean tied the sling to fit his small frame.   
  
“Well, thanks to our head start this morning, we should be at the Campbell’s by dinnertime,” Bobby reasoned.   
  
He gingerly handed Adam and the cat up to Sam. Bobby helped him clean up and repack before he mounted. Dean handed everyone an apple, a wedge of cheese, and dried beef for breakfast as they headed through town.  
  
They were all a bit shaken by the werewolf scare. If the cat survived the day, he just might pull through. Dean kept his eyes peeled for any odd movements in the woods.   
  
As the day wore on, traffic picked up. Full daylight and other travelers gave Dean a sense of safety he had been missing all morning. They stopped for lunch at the edge of a farm. Dean stretched out in a sunny spot on the grass. He was tired of riding. But he wasn’t looking forward to being at the Campbell’s either.   
  
“Here, I gotta pee n stuff.” Adam lay Thursday, sling, and all, on his chest.   
  
Dean cradled the unexpected bundle. “Has he eaten or drunk anything yet?”  
  
“No,” Adam said, turning back. “He just slept.” He continued toward the woods.  
  
Dean pulled the flap of his shirt back, looking at the sleek fur of the black cat. His big blue eyes blinked sleepily. “Sleeping is good. But you gotta drink.”  
  
The cat opened his mouth slightly, but no sound came out.  
  
Dean opened his waterskin. He had no bowl. Glancing around, he sat up slowly. He gently positioned the cat on his lap. He poured water into the palm of his hand. “Come on, you gotta drink.”  
  
The cat attempted but stopped. Dean moved him just a bit, getting a pained grunt from the cat. He poured water into his hand again. “Come on, man.”  
  
The cat drank two tiny licks.  
  
“You gotta do better than that.”  
  
The cat sighed, almost making Dean chuckle. “You saved our lives. I’m just tryin’ to return the favor here, boy. Come on.”  
  
The cat drank. Dean poured more into his palm and the cat drank it. He’d been around cats his whole life. But never had he been around one so responsive.  
  
The cat slumped against his chest, panting.  
  
“Good job.” Dean rubbed his head, shifting him on his chest. He tipped his head down, kissing the top of the cat’s head. “Thank you for protecting us. You just...hang on. You can sleep in a real bed tonight. No worrying. And no horse riding.”  
  
He grinned when a black paw reached for his arm, resting over his wrist. “You’re gonna be fine,” Dean murmured. He re-tied the sling onto himself, nodding off as Bobby and Sam made lunch. They ate a big lunch, taking their time to stretch out. By dinner, they would be with the Campbells.  
  
Dean tried to steel himself against the pushy personalities the Campbell’s would have. It bothered him that the Campbells viewed non-hunters as weak and useless. Dean knew they thought less of him for not becoming a hunter like his mother’s family were. But there was more to life than hunting and killing.  
  
“Bout a mile,” Bobby hollered. “They probably already know we’re coming.” Bobby glanced back and forth at the woods on either side of the narrow lane. “Paranoid bastards,” he muttered under his breath.  
  
Dean smirked. That, they were. Come to think of it, this side of his family was less like a family and more like a gang. Dean’s stomach dropped at the sight on the road ahead.  
  
Samuel Campbell.  
  
Damn. Scowling just as much now as he usually did. He sat astride a large black horse, arms crossed over his chest. His face didn’t look any different, except his beard was grayer. His head was as bald and smooth as ever. He had a wide, strong build that always put Dean in mind of a mountain.  
  
“We expected you a day ago.” His eyes roved over Bobby from head to his horse’s hooves. “I see you took a side trip.”  
  
Dean dismounted, as did Sam, Adam, and even Bobby. Dean pulled up his sleeve in greeting, cradling the cat protectively to his chest. His grandfather strode to him first, pulling his sleeve up. They clasped forearms, Dean finding the Campbell family sigil where it was always located, high on the forearm, just below the bend of the elbow. He placed his thumb on the Campbell family sigil, a shield with a C on it, clasped his forearm and let himself be pulled in for a one-arm hug/pat.  
  
Samuel stepped back, his eyes on the flannel lump on Dean’s chest. “This is our cat. It got injured fighting off a werewolf.”  
  
Samuel’s features relaxed a bit, and something shifted in his eyes. “Hunting on the way?”  
  
“Yep.” There was no way Dean was telling him the werewolves were hunting them instead of the other way around.  
  
Samuel grinned, patting Dean’s shoulder heavily as he moved on to Sam to clasp arms. Dean rolled his other sleeve up, knowing he would be greeting a lot more people.   
  
Maybe it was the ‘werewolf hunt’ or just having the cat near him, but either way, he felt better than he usually did around Samuel. Maybe he was just growing up and learning how to take shit like an adult? Whatever the strength was, he shrugged his shoulders, hardening himself to the slights and digs that Samuel wielded like weapons.  
  
“This is Adam, our brother,” Sam said pointedly as the boy looked at his forearm in wonder.  
  
“Wow! You got so many!” Adam’s eyes grew wide as he looked at Samuel’s forearm. It was true. Samuel had ties all over Lawrence, Freeland, and rumor had it, even sigils to hunters in Purgatory.  
  
“That’s what happens when you’re a hunter,” Samuel grinned down at him. “You meet a lot of good people out there.”  
  
“And bad,” Dean noted, seeing already that Samuel was gonna brainwash Adam like he did every other kid.  
  
Samuel ignored him.  
  
“Where’s your Winchester sigil?” Adam asked.   
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a wince.  
  
Samuel got on one knee, pointing to the Campbell shield. “This is my family. Campbells.”  
  
“So, we aren’t family?” Adam asked.  
  
“No,” Samuel grinned coldly.  
  
“Oh, he is family,” Dean said low, taking on a cold stare from Samuel with a hard stare of his own. “He is your son-in-law’s son.” He didn’t say it, but the unspoken sentence, ‘He had to marry again because you got the love of his life - your own daughter - killed,’ reverberated between the two.  
  
Samuel’s glare was hard as stone and as cold as ice.  
  
“Family is family,” Dean said aloud.  
  
Samuel turned back to Adam, shaking his hand, not a family gesture at all. “Family then.”  
  
Adam watched him wide-eyed as he moved on to Bobby.  
  
The men clasped forearms, surprising Dean. He wondered what sigil the two men shared. It had to have been a time when Mary was alive. He guessed a hunt back when his parents were young.  
  
Samuel seemed even more distant now. But Dean didn’t care. He had to keep Samuel from tearing his brothers or Bobby apart. Samuel was a conflicting combination of benevolent grandfather and brutal authoritarian. He had spent too many days at Campbell Compound to not see both sides of him. Sadly, he was mostly just an authoritarian dick.  
  
The oppressive weight of the concrete and steel building loomed just out of sight. Dean could already feel its weight.  
  
“So, what brings you here?” Samuel asked, arms crossed over his chest with a wide stance.  
  
“Not here,” Dean said quietly. The nagging feeling of something being out there following them, had not left him since the attack from the werewolves.   
  
Samuel nodded. “Come, then.”  
  
They mounted, Adam looked terrified. Dean couldn’t hear what his quiet pleas to Sam were, but he could guess. He didn’t want to stay with Samuel. Dean didn’t want to leave him either. But he would be safe here. No demon could touch him here. And for now, that was all that mattered.  
  
They followed Samuel along the dirt lane. He was glad no one could see the chill that washed over him as the large block of a building came into view.  
  
The cat shifted in his sling, bringing Dean’s attention back to him. He put a calming hand on his hip as they passed through the gate. He could feel the cat shudder as they passed through. A low growling whine came from his little body. “Easy buddy, we’re safe here.”  
  
He nodded solemnly to the guy at the gate. He was pretty sure he was one of his cousins. The guy waved to him with a friendly enough grin. Out of earshot, he said to the cat, “I don’t like it here either.”  
  
Sigils and markings of all kind littered the walls and gate of the compound. A giant devil’s trap made of stone was buried into the ground, as wide as the gate. It was kept swept and ready at all times. He didn’t even recognize some of the symbols painted and carved onto the gates and walls of the compound. The wide wooden doors had the same symbols carved into the wood.  
  
They dismounted, giving the horses to two more guys who came out of a large side entrance.  
  
“Dean, right?” One of them grinned coolly.  
  
Dean vaguely recognized the features of the man’s face. He was a few years older than himself. His short brown hair, grey eyes, and prominent nose were the same, even though he now had the start of a brown beard filling in. “Tyler?”  
  
“Yeah! Been awhile,” Tyler nodded. “And Sam? Damn! You grew up!”  
  
Sam grinned, clasping forearms. “Good to see you,” Sam said politely.  
  
Tyler was related somehow through the Campbells. Dean couldn’t remember all the family ties, but his Campbell sigil was proof enough.  
  
“These horses have been on the road for almost a week,” Dean added, giving Impala a good scrub on the neck with his knuckles the way she liked.  
  
“I’ll take good care of them,” he nodded. “I’ll have your things sent to your rooms.”  
  
Dean nodded. Tyler had been a pretty easy-going kid, always hanging around the stable.  
  
“Do you have a medic?” Dean asked. The cat had not stopped squirming since they got here.  
  
“We do. Arlene. You haven’t met her, but she’s Christian’s wife.” He looked at the horses curiously.  
  
“It’s not for the horses. It’s our cat.” Dean put a protective hand over the flannel sling.  
  
“Oh. Yeah. I’ll have her come see you.”  
  
Dean nodded, patting him on the shoulder as he followed his brothers, Bobby, and Samuel into the compound. It reminded him of the bunker in Lawrence. Grey concrete walls and floors. Only there was no warmth inside this bunker. It seemed all business. People bustled busily with housewares and weapons alike. They continued into the large building, following Samuel into a meeting room with a large table.  
  
Samuel took his seat at the head of the table. Dean took the chair next to him, cradling the cat to try and give him some relief. Sam and Bobby took seats across from Dean, Adam shyly sitting next to Dean.  
  
“I got a pigeon three days ago that you were to arrive yesterday,” Samuel began. “Kate sent it. She only said that I was to expect you.” His eyes drifted to Adam. Their cold grey-blue making Adam look away.  
  
“We’re here because demons attacked the bunker in Lebanon. They killed three of our guards and took Dad.”  
  
He had Samuel’s full attention now. “Demons? Did you capture any?”  
  
“No. They possessed the guards and...it was all over before we really even knew they were there,” Dean explained, already knowing Samuel would be irritated with their lack of vigilance against them.  
  
“I told John all his people should be tattooed,” he shook his head in disgust. “Fool.”  
  
Dean glared icily. “We all have them, including Adam.”  
  
Adam put a nervous hand up to his chest. He had gotten his the day before they left. Along with his Winchester sigil.  
  
Samuel nodded. “Did you get any information?”  
  
“No. But they just didn’t kill him when they could have. They took him. We got no immediate ransom, so we think it might have something to do with demons from when he was a hunter.” He leveled Samuel with a cold look. “Or you.”  
  
Samuel pursed his mouth, not missing the intent of Dean’s words. “Did you see what color smoke they were when they left the bodies?”  
  
“Black,” Sam answered.  
  
Dean had not known they could be different colors.  
  
“So, what are you doing here?” Samuel smirked, sitting back. “Hiding out until they take Kate or make demands?”  
  
Adam looked panicked.  
  
Dean put a calming hand on his shoulder. “We’re here to leave Adam somewhere safe while we go after these bastards,” Dean snapped, unable to take any more judgmental looks from the smug jackass.  
  
“We’re going after Dad,” Sam added, glaring equally. “Do you think you can manage to keep Adam safe for us while we’re away?”  
  
Samuel chuckled coldly. “He’s safe here. Honestly though, you think you can handle something like this? How many demons have you hunted?”  
  
“Enough,” Dean assured him. “And Bobby has had plenty of experience.”  
  
“You should take Christian with you. Gwen too,” Samuel said, obviously thinking Dean, Sam, and Bobby were incapable.  
  
“No,” Dean and Bobby answered.  
  
Samuel raised an eyebrow at Dean.   
  
“I’m not dragging anyone into this that I don’t have to. Sam and I owe it to Dad to find him. Bobby is family and we trust him.” He let the unsaid distrust for his own family sink in a moment, watching Samuel glare. “I know you owe our dad. And it’s a debt you’ll never repay. So, Grandpa, maybe you can get us geared up so we can leave to find him and get him out of whatever mess you or he stirred up.”  
  
Samuel looked like he might kill him. The ice in his stare and the curl of his lip was all Dean ever saw, even when Samuel was acting kind.  
  
“You owe him. And us.” Dean sat back. His anger at the rash hunters was old. All that anger he had pinned on his father for years, had been for this cocky son of a bitch right here. Samuel stirred up more problems hunting so ruthlessly than he did just protecting his people. And whether it was due to his father or his grandfather, his mother was dead. Never coming back. She had missed most of Dean’s life. She had missed Sam’s firsts. Taken away by the dangerous game the Campbell’s enjoyed playing.  
  
Samuel sat back. “You listen here, you snot-nosed brat of a Winchester. Your dad made plenty of enemies out there on his own.”  
  
“None that still live,” Bobby said confidently. “So, why would some demon want John Winchester now? He ain’t been hunting in years.”  
  
Samuel flushed with anger. “Neither of us could even fathom trying to figure out how to think like demons. Ten years is nothing to them. Maybe good-ole John showed how weak his defenses were and one came back to get him.”  
  
“Huh uh,” Bobby shook his head. “We tracked demons from here to Upper Purgatory. He didn’t make needless enemies. He killed what he tracked. Only son of a bitch he couldn’t get his hands on was Azazel. And if I remember correctly, which I always do, that was your mess to begin with.”  
  
Samuel’s flush of anger faded a bit.  
  
“IF that’s the demon we’re huntin’, he’s gonna be out for Dean and Sam as well. So, yay for you and yours tucked behind your sigiled walls, but the rest of us are out. Living. Doing what humans do.”  
  
It was the first time Dean had ever seen his grandfather look anything other than smug or self-righteous. Other than when his mom had died. He had been as broken as any father would be. But he turned all that sadness to anger, pinning it on his dad. His dad had turned into a demon-seeking monster of his own, leaving Dean and Sam to a childhood of struggle.  
  
Shit really did roll downhill.  
  
His raging anger at Samuel was interrupted by a black paw on his arm. Thursday was watching him from his sling. His other paw was on his chest, flexing in and out.  
  
Dean’s anger tumbled into frustration. Maybe Samuel wasn’t all to blame. Shit, he might have had nothing to do with any of this. But it did not change the fact that he was a cocky, degrading, bully of a grandfather. He shoved his chair back, getting to his feet.  
  
“We’ll leave in two days. The horses need rest. I want to know everything you know about demons, especially Azazel.”  
  
Samuel nodded, not meeting his eyes. The others got to their feet, following him back out to the main corridor. He stopped one of the servants. “Where are our rooms?”  
  
The young man holding an armload of sheets and two giant animal traps, turned to him quickly. “Two rooms at the end of the hall on the east wing.”  
  
Dean nodded. He led them up the stairs and to their rooms. Their saddlebags were already sitting in the guest rooms.   
  
“Dean, Sam,” Bobby said quietly, “you boys take this room. You can bunk with me, squirt.” He ruffled Adam’s hair.  
  
“Dean,” Adam turned to him, eyes pleading and about to cry. “Don’t leave me here! I can help!”  
  
“You’re stayin’ here,” Dean snapped. He felt the reserve of the anger he had at Samuel drain away as Adam started crying. He recognized the cold edge in his voice and knelt, laying the cat on one of the beds. He turned to Adam, at his level and wiped the tears off his soft cheeks. “Sorry. But this adventure Sammy and Bobby and I are going on is a little too big for you yet. I’m gonna bring Dad home. But I can’t do that if I don’t know you’re safe.” He searched his brother’s eyes, needing him to understand. “If I’m distracted out there, it’ll only get us hurt.”  
  
Adam’s angry frown softened, and he sniffled. He nodded bravely. Dean crumpled inside. He had been left here several times throughout his childhood while his dad and Samuel or other Campbells went out hunting. The damage Samuel had done to him verbally over the years made Dean hate himself for leaving him here alone.  
  
“You know those swords and knives Dad never lets you practice with at home?” Sam grinned.  
  
“Yeah?” Adam answered, still teary.  
  
“If you show them how good you are with the wooden practice ones, I bet they’ll let you try the real ones.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
That was true enough. If Adam grew up here, he’d have a short sword of his own by now.  
  
“Besides, you gotta help Thursday get better,” Bobby said, eyeing the cat with a frown of worry. “Time off the road might do him some good.”  
  
Adam nodded. He turned back to Dean. “Are Demons gonna get Mommy too?”  
  
Dean had to stamp down the hitch in his breath. “No, Adam.” He hated Samuel for even planting that seed. “This has to do with Dad. Not your mom.”  
  
Fresh tears fell, but he nodded bravely.  
  
Dean pulled him in for a hug. “Everything is gonna be okay, Adam. I promise we will do everything we can.”  
  
Adam hugged him back tightly then pulled away with a barely masked brave look on his little face.  
  
“Meet up in a few to get some dinner?” Bobby asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam and Dean agreed.  
  
Bobby took Adam by the hand and led him to the other room to put some of their gear away. Dean closed the door as Bobby started to pull Adam’s clothes out to unpack for him.  
  
Sam sat on the empty bed. “This...”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean agreed. Campbell Compound was anything but ‘home’ to them all.  
  
  
  
*******************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel knew the moment they crossed through the gates to this place that it had wards against nephilim. He could feel the gnawing at his grace. On one hand, it reassured him that he was still a nephilim somewhere in this tiny cat body. On the other hand, he had to get out of here.   
  
The attack on the werewolf had not been planned. He just knew he couldn’t let the beast kill any of these humans. If only he was in his true form. He could have snapped its neck to slow it down. He could have blasted it and the others away. He could have warned them much better.   
  
But alas, his tiny form left him with few options. The wolf had struck him hard after he bit it. It had knocked him off its back and against a tree. When he woke, the werewolves were all dead and his humans were leaving. His head hurt tremendously, and he was bleeding from a claw gash in his side. He had no memory of crawling toward them. Only the memory of riding.  
  
It felt as though they rode for a lifetime.  
  
He remembered Dean stitching him. He wanted to thank him for saving him and not just leaving him behind or leaving him somewhere to die. The stitches were healing. Nephilim healed faster than humans. Or cats. But the warding against nephilim was tearing at him.  
  
Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Adam had gone to dinner. His agony pulsed through him. He breathed in the smell of Dean and cotton from his flannel shirts that had become a cocoon for him.   
  
He finally relaxed, now that he was no longer moving, but his sleep was tormented with pain and the nauseating pulse of the wards.   
  
He woke to a woman prodding at the stitches in his side. He let out a plaintive meow.   
  
“Easy buddy,” Dean called, stopping him from clawing her hand away. “So, can you fix him or whatever?”  
  
The woman studied him with a frown pulling at her mouth.  
She wore her hair in multiple braids leading to one running down the center of her back. “The stitches look okay. It will be a sickness from the werewolf claw. We should kill it.”  
  
“Whoa,” Dean snapped, scowling at her, and stepping closer. “We aren’t killing him.”  
  
“It’s just a cat,” she frowned back.  
  
“He isn’t just a cat. He’s like a watchdog. Only smarter. And cleaner. I want him healed, not killed.”  
  
She huffed with a grin. “I heard you Winchesters were soft. Don’t like to hunt. I didn’t think that meant you would endanger good people at the risk of this cat possibly turning into a werecat.”  
  
“First off,” Dean cut her off, “Your husband, Christian, can kiss my ass. Macho crusades across Purgatory, stirring up hatred toward humans amongst monsters is anything but noble or brave. Second, there’s no such thing as a werecat.”  
  
Her annoyance hardened. “I suggest you keep it confined to this room. If it attempts to infect anyone or anything here, I’ll kill it myself.”  
  
She swept out of the room, her long dress flowing behind her.   
  
Castiel dropped his head back down in relief. He just needed to get out of these sigiled walls. He howled low.  
  
He could feel Dean petting him gently. If only he could tell him. If only he could explain what was happening.  
  
  
  
********************************************************  
  
  
Dean lay awake long into the night. Dinner had been filling but the atmosphere was chilly to say the least. The cat had finally fallen asleep on his chest. He stroked his silky fur idly.   
  
“Dean, you awake?” Sam whispered softly.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean turned his head, looking over at Sam.  
  
“I think we should leave tomorrow. I hate it here.”  
  
Dean sighed, his hand stopping to lay on the cat’s side. “The horses need rest.”  
  
“I don’t care if we walk to the next town and stay there. And I think Adam would be better left at a stranger’s house than here. Samuel thinks we’re useless, no-good Winchesters. And we’re half mom’s! What will he do to Adam?”  
  
Dean sighed heavily. “I can’t leave him with strangers.”  
  
“We can’t leave him here.” Sam sat up.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “We can’t just leave him with strangers! Not happenin’. Great. Now look what you did. You woke the cat up.”  
  
“The cat? You’re more worried about the cat than your own brother!” Sam snapped.  
  
The cat was wide awake now, panting and gasping. Dean wondered if he really was just letting this animal suffer. What he DID know, was that Sam was being ridiculous.   
  
“Do you hear yourself?” Dean asked, incredulous annoyance making him sit up, making the cat howl low and slow.  
  
Sam sighed, getting up, lighting the lantern. He peered over his shoulder at the cat in Dean’s lap, trying valiantly to sit up.   
  
“We’re not leaving yet. So, our cousins are douchebags. We knew that.” He wiped a hand down his tired face. “Our grandfather might be king dick of the hunter squad, but he has knowledge and hopefully some weapons to give us. He owes us, Sam. And I intend to cash in.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Alright. Fine. We do this the smart way. I still say we take Adam with us.”  
  
Dean sighed. “Maybe Bobby knows someone better to leave him with.”  
  
Mollified, Sam went back to his bed. “Okay. But...Dean. That cat.”  
  
Dean sighed again. “Come on, cat.” He lifted the cat to his chest, holding him in a hug. Something needed to go right. He felt more frustrated than he could even say. He stared down at the cat’s black little face, eyes so wide and blue. “Are you gonna friggin’ die?”  
  
The cat shook his head no.  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped. “Sam! Sam!”  
  
“I saw,” Sam said, coming back to Dean’s bed, watching the cat.  
  
“Okay,” Dean swallowed, trying to think. Why the hell was this cat so smart? “Are you a shapeshifter?”  
  
That cat shook his sleek, black head no.  
  
“Are you a familiar?” Sam asked.  
  
No.  
  
“What the hell?” Dean sighed. “Are you in pain?”  
  
Yes.  
  
“Are you gonna make it?”  
  
Yes.  
  
“Should we leave tomorrow?” Dean asked, feeling like he had some sort of ticket into the mystical world.  
  
The cat looked at him, then Sam, then back to him.  
  
“I’ll take that as an ‘I don’t know’.” Dean and the cat stared at each other another long moment. “What the hell are you?”  
  
The cat meowed, coughed, and howled in pain.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Dean said in a hushed voice. “Just sleep it off, big guy.”  
  
He laid the cat next to him on the bed, turning so he wouldn’t bump into him.  
  
He and Sam exchanged bewildered looks. Dean shrugged. He knew there was something different about this cat. It was the timing that really had him wondering. Demons took his dad and then this cat showed up. What the hell was the connection?   
  
He wasn’t sleeping, that was for sure. He had no idea if he was sharing a bed with a friend or foe.  



	6. Compound Problems with Compound Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With family like the Campbells, who needs enemies?! Dean spreads his Winchester charm as Castiel fights for his life.

Chapter 6: Compound Problems with Compound Solutions  
  
  
  
“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Bobby snickered.  
  
“I knew something was off about this cat,” Dean whispered loudly.  
  
“But, he’s a cat...right?” Adam asked, stepping back from the bed.  
  
“Are you a cat?” Dean asked.  
  
Big blue eyes blinked at him slowly. He nodded yes.  
  
“A really smart cat,” Sam added.  
  
The cat nodded yes again.  
  
“Yeah,” Bobby said slowly. “Cats ain’t that smart.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “I don’t really know what the hell he is. But he’s more than your average cat.”  
  
Bobby poured some holy water on one paw. Nothing happened. “He ain’t a demon.”  
  
A big part of Dean’s worry deflated. “It doesn’t react to silver, holy water, salt, or my kitsune knife.” He had tested each one as soon as he woke up this morning. But Bobby finding the same results made him feel like he wasn’t losing his mind.  
  
“We need to figure this out,” Bobby said under his breath. “And we best not let anyone else in this place catch on.”  
  
“Did you hear that, Thursday?” Dean said sternly. “So...act like a cat.”  
  
“Don’t leave this room,” Bobby ordered, getting a nod from the cat.  
  
Dean frowned, rubbing a nervous hand over his jaw. “He hasn’t moved since we got here. I mean, he’s moved on the bed, but he hasn’t even gotten off of it.”  
  
They all stared down at the cat, which was laying on his side, looking like it hurt to even breathe.  
  
“Let’s get down to breakfast,” Sam huffed. “At least we get fed here.”  
  
“We’ll bring you some breakfast, okay?” Adam said, still not getting near the bed.  
  
They headed down the corridor and downstairs to the dining hall, which they called a ‘cafeteria’ here.  
  
They moved through the line, each taking a cup of milk.  
  
“Dean, Sam,” Samuel called, entering the cafeteria with a grin. “Come join me for breakfast. We made a special meal for you. It’s not often that my grandchildren are here.”  
  
Dean immediately felt like it was a show. He grinned wide. “Food? I’m in.” He took his cup of milk and followed his grandfather to a smaller room off the cafeteria.  
  
They all sat down at a large table. Dean was less than thrilled to see Christian and Arlene already there. Christian had a tolerant smile pinned on his face. Dean didn’t bother to return it. Two more people sat at the table as well. More cousins that Dean recognized immediately, Gwen and Mark.  
  
Mark gave him a nod. Dean nodded back. He remembered Mark well. His hair was still shaggy and dirty-blonde. But he too had a trim beard now. He liked Mark more than any of the others. He was quiet. Always had been. Dean used to bug the shit out of him until he could provoke him into action. As if he were thinking the same thing, he quirked a grin at him.  
  
Gwen, his other cousin, looked as shrewd as he remembered. Samuel never let her rough-house like him, Sam, Mark, Christian, and Tyler. They always had to be more careful if they were sparring with her or hunting with her. Dean knew her to be a snitch. He had no room for snitches. Never did.  
  
“A nice family breakfast,” Samuel smiled.  
  
Dean smiled back, knowing he had mastered the same ability to smile and still look disgusted if you looked close enough.  
  
“Gwen, Mark,” Sam nodded politely, being the polite gentleman they were raised to be.  
  
Adam sat timidly between Dean and Sam, Bobby on Dean’s other side.  
  
Dean saw a table covered with dishes of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, fruit, and slices of ham. Dean’s eyes lit up when a kitchen worker brought in a pot of coffee. There was a major coffee shortage this year in Lawrence, and Dean was damn near drooling at the fantastic smell of it.  
  
“Damn, bringin’ out the good stuff,” Dean grinned (for real this time).  
  
“Well, after our disastrous meeting yesterday,” Samuel said, bowing his head slightly, “I thought it was only right.”  
  
Dean loaded his plate, getting annoyed looks from Christian, Arlene, Bobby, and Gwen. Sam just looked slightly embarrassed. Adam held his plate out to Dean. Mark grinned down at his plate. “Dig in,” Samuel laughed.  
  
Everyone else began filling their plates.  
  
“How is your cat?” Arlene asked, obviously not really caring. Dean saw it for the dig it was.  
  
“Better.” He refused to take her bait, instead, enjoying the hot, fresh coffee.  
  
“Dean, Sam,” Samuel began conversationally, “I was thinking about where you guys are heading. You do remember the exorcism spell, don’t you?”  
  
Dean glared at him. Of course he knew it. He spent a week here one summer, damn near starving to death because they would not allow him to eat until he could recite it first. He did feel gratified when Bobby glared at Samuel, and Mark gave Samuel a pause in chewing and a frown of disbelief.  
  
Samuel grinned, making his point.  
  
“Do you have any maps we can take for the trip?” Sam asked. “We need a good Purgatory map, if you have one.”  
  
“Our most updated one is four years old, but it should work,” Christian answered.  
  
Smug little fucker.  
  
“Sure, you can take a map,” Samuel nodded. “I wanted to talk to all of you this morning.”  
  
Everyone looked to the patriarch, listening.  
  
“I think I should take Adam back to Lebanon.”  
  
Dean sat back. “Why?”  
  
Samuel looked as though he didn’t want to answer that. “I think the demons will come back. And it appears the bunker isn’t as well warded as it should be. I just...I think I can better protect them from there.”  
  
Dean was immediately suspicious. And he didn’t want to scare Adam. He nodded. “I’ll think about it.”  
  
They continued eating in an awkward silence.   
  
“So,” Christian grinned, “you married yet, Dean?”  
  
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Not me.”  
  
Christian grinned, giving his wife a smug look. “You should try it. Well, maybe when you’re a little older. More mature.”  
  
“Christian,” Samuel snapped.  
  
Christian studiously cut his ham. Dean went back to his own plate. “Besides, when I get married, it won’t be to the likes of Arlene.” He sat up, giving Christian a challenging look. He heard Bobby sigh.  
  
“What exactly does that mean?” Christian growled, his fake grin finally dropping.  
  
“Well, for a medic, she would just rather the patient die than try to take care of it.”  
  
“It’s a cat!” Arlene snapped.  
  
“It’s fine,” Dean shrugged. “It wasn’t a simple fix. It might take some, ya know, thought. Or even a little research.”  
  
“Dammit, Dean,” Bobby said under his breath, wiping his mouth.  
  
“But mostly because she’s a she. I don’t go for women.” Seventy percent of the population was homosexual. But he almost wished Christian would provoke him about it.   
  
“You are such an asshole,” Christian snapped. “You need to apologize to Arlene right now.”  
  
“I’ll be sure to send a letter, when I get to a real medic who can treat him instead of walk away from him.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam warned, glaring at him.  
  
“That’s enough,” Bobby growled, glaring at him hard enough to wipe the smart-ass look off his face.   
  
He turned to Arlene. “Sorry.”  
  
Arlene’s scowl didn’t soften. Dean could read people well. He had hit the nail on the head. She was a mediocre medic at best. He had called her out on it, and he was good with it. Served her right. While they were down here eating, that animal was writhing in pain upstairs.  
  
Samuel sighed, poking at the food on his plate. “Ya know, Dean, your father and I rarely saw eye to eye on much. But family was one thing we agreed on. We take care of our family.”  
  
Dean tried not to be as transparent as he had been. The only thing reining him in was the anger on Bobby’s face. And there was still the slim possibility that this was all his dad’s fault. Or that it was random. Yeah, that last one was weak. He glanced over at Adam, who had stopped eating. Dean sighed inwardly. He was really freaking Adam out.  
  
“You’re right,” Dean said quietly, looking at his grandfather. “It’s hard to get past the judgement everyone here has against us. But...I want to. My dad is missing. I don’t even know if I’m going on a rescue mission or a revenge mission. He could be dead for all we know. But I gotta believe he’s still alive. And I’m going to save him.”  
  
Samuel nodded. The rest of them stowed their shitty attitudes. “I have some maps to help you. I also have some...ideas of where he might be.”  
  
Now they were getting somewhere.   
  
“They should get the demon knife,” Gwen said, pushing her plate away to lean forward on the table.”  
  
“The what?” Dean and Sam asked.  
  
“The demon knife,” Samuel explained. “We had a blade, bout as big as my forearm. It didn’t look all that special, but a sprite made it. It kills demons.”  
  
“It kills demons?” Bobby repeated, looking as surprised as he and Sam did.  
  
“A sprite?” Dean asked with disbelief. “I thought they were...dead. Or not even real.”  
  
“Oh, they’re real,” Christian smirked. “If you spent any time up north, you’d know.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes.   
  
“Have you been to Sunken Ties?” Sam asked. Dean had heard the old stories about Sunken Ties, the end of the fight between Sprites and Humans. The land strait that led to Haven had been ripped apart, letting the sea divide the land of Haven from Purgatory.  
  
“I haven’t been that far,” Christian admitted. “Humans don’t go there unless they wanna be caught by a sprite and never seen again.”  
  
Christian raised an eyebrow at the brothers’ skeptic look.  
  
“The sprites will snatch you up and kill you or keep you for breeding. You two really need to get out a little.” Christian went back to his breakfast with a smug look.  
  
Samuel nodded gravely. “The knife was made by Warlock, Sunday’s Sprite. Or, so the legend goes. The blade kills the demon instantly.”  
  
“It works,” Christian nodded. “I’ve used it. You stab ‘em, and this orange light flashes and bam! They’re dead!”  
  
“Where is it?” Bobby asked, looking suspicious.  
  
“Lincoln. A town on the west coast of Purgatory. The place is full of demons.” Christian had a slightly haunted look as he went on. “Lost it to a demon named Ruby. She’s the one that killed Johnny.”  
  
Johnny. Another cousin. Dean immediately flashed back to when he was a kid. Johnny was older, a teenager when Dean was barely ten. He had a boyfriend, and for a short time, Dean thought he was the coolest person he knew. He had wondered where he was but figured he had been out hunting. As Dean grew up, he realized Johnny was just as crass as the rest of the Campbells. They were reckless with their lives when it came to hunting. So, it wasn’t a total shock that Johnny was dead and gone and no one had bothered to let them know.  
  
“Ruby’s one of the few demon names we remember Dad mentioning. So, what’s the story with her?” Sam asked.  
  
They listened as Samuel and Christian recounted a demon hunt that, to Dean, seemed unprovoked, unwarranted, and more like head hunting. But he just listened. His grandfather had lost four people on this battle, tracking the demons to Lincoln.  
  
“If you get that knife,” Samuel leaned forward, looking excited, “then you would have a much better chance against any demons. It could make all the difference.”  
  
Dean wanted it. Demon knife, next stop. He wanted to pack up and hit the road right now. But Bobby looked worried, doing his beard rubbing, hat shifting, and squinty eyes thing.  
  
Breakfast over, Dean took one of the back staircases to their room, coaxing Bobby into being as on board with this sweet idea as he was.  
  
“What’s not to like about a knife that kills demons as easily as a knife kills a human?” Dean badgered, closing the bedroom door behind him.  
  
Bobby paced over to the window. “If the knife is so damn great, why haven’t they gone ta get it? Huh? They eat up a hunt. Seems like something you wouldn’t let go of lightly. They know exactly where it is. So, why haven’t they gone back for it? He said they lost it two years ago.”  
  
Huh. Dean glanced at Sam; he didn’t want to lose a chance to get the knife. It was the perfect weapon! “I don’t know, Bobby! But it’s something!”  
  
Bobby shook his head no. “I don’t like it.”  
  
“You don’t like it.” Dean was becoming pissed now.  
  
“It’s too easy. It just don’t make sense that they haven’t gotten it back themselves.”  
  
“He has a point,” Sam interjected.  
  
Dean wanted to throw something. “How ‘bout this, we pack our shit, see what else we can find here, and leave at dawn. That IS still the plan, right?”  
  
Bobby narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Don’t sass me boy. I’ve been fannin’ yer hide since you were old enough ta ride a horse. Don’t think I won’t put you in your place.”  
  
Dean flushed. He sat on his bed, next to Adam. “Sorry, Bobby. I -”  
  
“You need outta here.” Bobby still looked bothered about the whole idea. “This place is part of the problem.” He sat on Sam’s bed, next to him. “I only know one guy who can get us to Freeland. For three of us to get passage, it’s gonna cost us.”  
  
Dean’s excitement was waning. “How much?”  
  
“He don’t deal in money. He deals in things. He likes rare finds. The shinier, the better.”  
  
“What were you planning?” Sam asked.  
  
“I brought some coins. And I have some ingredients fer spells that ain’t easy to come by. But I’m worried it ain’t gonna be enough. I was hoping we could pick something up here that might be a little more...valuable.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Let’s see what the old man has.”  
  
“Is that the only way to get to Freeland?” Sam asked.  
  
“Fraid so,” Bobby admitted. “Wish I knew a better way. But there’s good reason to keep traffic from Lawrence to Freeland slim. Freeland is the only country where monsters and humans live together. It’s dangerous. But we can’t get ta Purgatory without goin’ through Freeland.”  
  
They all nodded.  
  
Dean looked down at the cat. He seemed to be listening through all his panting. “Sound like a smart plan?” Dean asked it.  
  
The cat looked at all of them but said nothing.  
  
“Still want to come with us?” Bobby asked.  
  
It nodded his black head yes.  
  
“Do you know a better way to Freeland?” Adam asked it.  
  
It shook its head no.  
  
Dean sighed. “Alright. Let’s start seein’ what the old bastard has tucked away here. Too bad he doesn’t have that knife. Probably woulda been perfect payment.”  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
The research room in the bunker of Campbell Compound was downstairs in the basement. It was cold and gray like the rest of the building. Dean managed to pull his grandfather aside and tell him they needed something valuable to get to Freeland.  
  
Samuel understood their dilemma immediately. Dean was a bit surprised when his grandfather gave them everything they could want for the trip. Food, water, better sleeping rolls, weapons they didn’t have, maps, and most of all, a set of ten identical chalices. Each laced with poison to kill any number of monsters. He said it was perfect for a dealer like Bobby’s contact, the King of the Crossroads. Bobby seemed to agree.  
  
As Sam and Bobby took their new gear to pack it with the saddlebags, Samuel pulled Dean aside. “I wish I could give you more. Your mother...”  
  
Dean looked away.   
  
“Your mother would hate me for not joining you. Mark said he would go. I’d send Christian, but -”  
  
“No thanks,” Dean interrupted. “We’re tryin’ ta keep this a small group.”  
  
Samuel blinked with what Dean suspected might be a moment of guilt. “Demons would see us coming. We’re too easily recognized among them. We’ve...made a lot of enemies.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah, we can’t risk that kind of heat. But...thank you.”  
  
They exchanged an understanding nod.  
  
“I do have a request,” Samuel said, puffing his chest up a bit. “The demon knife comes back to the compound when you’re done with this rescue.”  
  
Dean nodded. So, that’s why they were getting all the freebies. “Fair enough. I have a request of my own. Adam. He’s staying here.”  
  
“Dean,” Samuel shook his head, stepping closer. “I’m leaving at first light to go to Lebanon. I can’t do anything from here. But I can help Kate keep the bunker safer for everyone there.”  
  
“You think demons will go back there?” A rush of cold filled Dean’s chest.  
  
“I’m sure some are already there.”  
  
Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Then take Adam home. And I want Mark to go with you. No one else. I don’t need any more Winchester-hating Campbells than necessary inside the bunker. I know you think Dad’s weak for having a life there, but at least we had a home for the past ten years. The people in Lebanon respect him, Samuel. If I find out you’re there talkin’ shit -”  
  
Samuel held his hands up. “I have no interest in taking over Lebanon. And I know your dad is well respected. It isn’t just Lebanon. All of Lawrence respects what he’s done to improve keeping monsters out and improving trade.”  
  
Dean bit his tongue. “Then you put up sigils and help train guards. And take Adam home.”  
  
“Done. I’ll take him home. I’m sure Mark won’t mind coming along. And Dean...we don’t hate you. You’re just...very different than us.”  
  
“Well, it feels the same no matter how you slice it. Grandpa.”  
  
Dean walked away. He had never come to the compound and felt like an equal. He had been young. And always under the scrutiny of being a Winchester. They weren’t raised like the rest of the family, training to be hunters day in and day out. Their dad had only hunted to appease Samuel for their mom’s sake. And then his revenge spree. Thankfully, he got out of that life. He and Sam had not grown up like this. He could hunt, but it wasn’t the ONLY thing in life.  
  
They ate dinner, Mark joining them. He was quiet, but he was the same as he had always been. As they made their way toward the stairs, Sam stopped Mark. “Take good care of Adam.”  
  
Mark nodded. “He’ll be safe. Even from Samuel.”  
  
Sam, Dean, and Mark all exchanged a hug.   
  
Mark knelt to Adam. “You and me tomorrow.”  
  
Adam nodded, clasping forearms. They had no sigil to share, but it meant there was trust between them.  
  
Mark stood up with a nod to the brothers and headed toward the stables.  
  
Dean scooped Adam up, throwing him over his shoulder. “You ready for that long ride home?”  
  
“Yes!” Adam giggled.   
  
Dean pulled him back up and sat him on his hip as they went up the steps. “I’m pretty damn impressed with you, man.”  
  
Adam nodded, making a face as if he were proud of himself. It reminded Dean of when Sam was small. He was watchful and smart, like Sam.   
  
“You take care of yourself. If you gotta make any decisions, go with Mark. Samuel is...”  
  
“I don’t like him. Or Christian. Why is your mom’s family so mean?”  
  
“I don’t know, buddy. They’re hard. They’re hunters.”  
  
“You hunt,” Adam said in confusion.  
  
“We hunt if we have to,” Sam helped him explain. “The Campbells hunt. Period.”  
  
Dean opened the door to their room, putting Adam on his feet. “Where’s Thursday?” They both asked.  
  
The shirts that had been the cat’s world for the last few days, lay empty on Dean’s bed.  
  
They began looking under all the furniture.  
  
“Maybe he went to the bathroom,” Adam said shakily.  
  
“Maybe. Sam, take Adam and start looking outside.”  
  
“Where are you going?” Sam asked, a note of warning to the question.  
  
“To find Arlene.”  
  
“Dean,” Bobby stopped him with a hand to his chest. “I’ll ask her. I’ll ask around. You keep lookin’.”  
  
“Fine. But if she killed him, I’ll chop all her fucking hair off.”  
  
Bobby raised both eyebrows but took him quite seriously.  
  
“Dean,” Sam stopped him, making Dean bite back a frustrated swear and clench his fist. “He really was sick. He might have crawled somewhere private and...died.”  
  
Dean blew out a frustrated sigh. “If he died on his own, fine. If a ‘medic’ helped him die...we’re gonna have a problem.”  
  
All Bobby’s digging and all their searching was in vain. No cat was found. Correction, plenty of cats were found. Three of them were black. But none of them were Thursday.  
  
  
Dean was up half the night searching before he finally went to bed. He had to ditch his worries and go to sleep. His dad was somewhere suffering. And that was in a good scenario. He tossed and turned until Sam woke him just before dawn.  
  
“It’s time to go, dude.” Sam pulled a bag onto his shoulder and headed out of the room.  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel had never fought so hard in his life. It had taken him hours to drag himself out of the bunker and through the gate. The closer he got to the sigils, the weaker he became. Once he was through the gate and free of the sickening symbols, he crawled under a bush to recover.  
  
The immediate relief from the drain on his grace was like breathing full air again. He passed out before night had fully fallen.  
  
Luckily, an angry blue jay woke him. It was dawn. Castiel got to his paws, darting away from the territorial bird. He was still weak, but he felt remarkably better. As he glared back at the bird, he hated himself a bit more for ending up in this predicament. Angel of Thursday. A weak and injured cat. Of all the audacious injustices. Chased by a bird.  
  
He slunk between some bushes when he heard hoof steps. He watched as Samuel, Adam, and another man from Campbell compound rode past. He was a bit torn. He felt as though maybe he should be staying with Adam to keep him safe. But Adam looked happy enough.   
  
He waited, watching the gate carefully. They said they would leave today. He fought the notion to fall asleep. He desperately needed food and water.   
  
He heard more hoof steps. Sam, Bobby, and Dean came out next. Castiel darted out, meowing loud.   
  
“Sam! Bobby!” Dean dismounted quickly, picking him up with a look of shock. “Where the hell have you been?”  
  
Castiel wanted to tell him. But he was so tired. So hungry. So thirsty. And still a fucking cat. “Meeoooow.”  
  
“He’s alive!” Dean held him up for the others to see.  
  
Sam grinned. “I see. Should we take him back in?”  
  
Castiel growled.  
  
Dean lowered him to his chest with a chuckle. “D’ja hear that Sam? That was cat for ‘no, asshole’.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Are you bringing it along?”  
  
“Yes.” Dean mounted, sitting Castiel on the saddle in front of him. His green eyes searched him with a look of relief and worry. “You look better.”  
  
Castiel meowed plaintively. He was so tired of not being able to talk. He sat up tall, putting his paws on Dean’s chest, meowing in his face.  
  
“I missed you too, buddy,” Dean grinned. Petting him.  
  
Castiel damn near growled again. Humans and their incessant petting! He saw Dean’s waterskin hanging by his leg and began pawing at it.  
  
“I thought you crawled off somewhere and died,” Dean said quietly.  
  
“I think he needs water. Food too,” Bobby said, watching him.  
  
Castiel sat up, nodding yes.  
  
Dean’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah...I’m not gonna lie. That yes/no shit kinda creeps me out.” He pulled the waterskin up, pouring water into his hand.  
  
Castiel drank it all. And the next three handfuls too.  
  
Dean closed the skin and they began walking. Castiel meowed again.  
  
“I’m workin’ on it, bossy,” Dean frowned, pulling a piece of dried ham out of his jacket. He tore off small bites, helping Castiel stay on the saddle. Castiel ate the entire strip of ham, hungrily.   
  
He felt much better after the food and water. He lay down on Dean’s lap, needing his stability. He stretched out, laying like a blanket.  
  
Dean muttered to him the whole time. Castiel knew he should be more thankful. These people were doing the best they could. It was no one’s fault but his own that he was a cat. He just needed to find a witch to help him.  
  
Where was Gabriel?  
  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
  
Dean tossed another log on their little fire. “How long is it going to take to get to Needham?”  
  
“Tomorrow we board the train. One night on that. Another day’s ride to Needham,” Bobby answered as he sat a few more sticks on the ground to feed the fire.  
  
Dean nodded. “How do you know this King of the Crossroads guy? You never said.”  
  
Bobby sighed, kneeling to the fire to rearrange a few logs. “I never said, because I ain’t too thrilled to talk about it.”  
  
Dean sat down next to Sam. Sam looked puzzled. “This a hunting thing?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Care to elaborate?” Dean pushed.  
  
Bobby glanced over at them. “Not really.”  
  
“Bobby,” Sam half laughed. “We gotta know what we’re walking into.”  
  
Bobby sighed. He watched the fire for a while. Dean thought the old bugger wasn’t going to share anything, then he finally started talking.  
  
“Yer dad and I were chasin’ Azazel. Had a good lead. We...I enlisted help from him. He’s known as the King of the Crossroads. He handles transport to Freeland and handles people and monsters coming from Freeland to Lawrence. If there was a boss demon in Lawrence, he’d be it.”  
  
“Demon?” Sam said with shock. “This guy’s a demon?”  
  
“He is,” Bobby admitted. “Name’s Crowley. Anytime I went to Freeland, he handled my passage. And your dad’s. He’s a ruthless businessman. I don’t like working with him, but...trust me, there’s a lot worse.”  
  
Dean didn’t like the sound of this. He reasoned he wouldn’t like a lot of things about this trip they were taking. But working with a demon seemed dangerous to say the least. “If people know Crowley is what he is, why hasn’t anyone killed him?”  
  
“Crowley...believe it or not, can be a people pleaser. He always finds some way of staying out of trouble. It’s his connections. He’s powerful. And like us, sometimes people need him. I guess you could say he’s found himself a place in the market.”  
  
“But, in Lawrence?” Sam asked. “I feel like I’m breaking the law just knowing about him.”  
  
“Huh,” Bobby laughed humorlessly, “it won’t be the last law you break on this trip, kid.”  
  
Sam frowned.  
  
For not the first time, Dean wondered just what he would be sacrificing to rescue his dad. He hoped it was worth it in the end.  
  
“Crowley is under special dispensation to live here. He has a deal with John, saying as much. All demons traveling to Lawrence are restricted to Needham and are Crowley’s responsibility. Until we get to Freeland, anyway.”  
  
“So, Crowley gets to be king of Needham. What did Dad get?”  
  
“Plenty,” Bobby nodded. “Political support. Stronger laws narrowing the transport completely to Needham.” Bobby winced, “Even some trade deals.”  
  
Dean was shocked. His dad. The demon hunting bad ass. Working WITH a demon. Sam looked just as rattled.  
  
Bobby shook off his dark cloud and started making dinner. “How’s the cat? Or whatever it is.”  
  
Dean looked down at the black cat sitting beside him. Typical for a cat, his face wore a permanent look of bitterness. “He’s sitting up. He ate like a horse today. Drank like one too.”  
  
“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky,” Bobby grinned, “and when we wake up, he’ll be a horse.”  
  
Dean grinned, looking at his traveling companion. “Can you turn into a horse?”  
  
The cat glared at him a second before shaking his head no.  
  
“Guess not.” Dean lay back in the grass, stretching out. He was going to meet a demon. And not kill it. It boggled his mind.  
  
Silence stretched on as Bobby stirred potatoes and onions over a frying pan.  
  
“Do you believe Samuel’s story about sprites making this so-called demon knife?” Sam asked.  
  
“Plenty of lore out there about sprites. No one I ever came across saw one. But they definitely used to be here. We had a war with them, after all.”  
  
“Why do they breed with people?” Sam asked.  
  
“One of my books says people used to try to be partners with them. It was an honor if they chose you. Nobody really knows what happened to them though. Sprites can’t have children on their own. But if they breed with humans, they can have kids. Weaker sprites than the ones before them. Guess we’ll learn more in Purgatory.”  
  
“Friggin’ sprites. Didn’t think I’d be dealing with the likes of them,” Dean shook his head in disgust.  
  
“Doubt we will,” Bobby said over his shoulder, “they stay way up north. They don’t care about what goes on down here. Too busy squabbling amongst themselves.”  
  
Dean looked down as the cat meowed, nearing Bobby. He had been meowing for the last two minutes.  
  
“I cooked you some too,” Bobby grinned.  
  
The cat sat there staring at him.  
  
Bobby stared back at him. “You callin’ me an idjit? I’ll have you know I don’t speak cat.” Bobby’s eyebrows jumped a little as the cat grumbled at him. “Cats are such assholes.” He laughed, “He just rolled his eyes at me! You missin’ any other relatives? He kinda reminds me of you, Dean!”  
  
“Ha ha,” Dean bantered, unamused.   
  
“So, back to what you were saying,” Sam interrupted, “sprites need humans to have kids.”  
  
“It’s part of the great punishment when the angels were thrown down from heaven. Only the Creator made angels. Guess they figured out over time how to have kids. Those were just nephilim though. Half human, half angel. Pure angels are all dead. Then, during the War of the Peoples those damn sprites said they would help men, but they were too busy fighting amongst themselves to be of any use. They pulled out, sunk the land bridge and cut themselves off from everyone.”  
  
Dean offered the meowing cat some raw rabbit, the cat gave him a disgusted look, continuing to meow.  
  
“So...sprites are nephilim,” Sam surmised, picking the cat up to pet him.  
  
“Yep.” Bobby added the rabbit meat to his mixture of potatoes and onions.  
  
“Thanks to those self-absorbed idjits, we lost all the land that is Purgatory, and pretty much lost Freeland too.”  
  
Sam nodded, putting the loud cat down with a frown.  
  
“Well, we can use that knife, that’s for sure,” Dean said. “Who knows, maybe it kills sprites too.” He picked up the pissy cat and gave him a stern look. “Nobody knows what you want, dude. Chill.”  
  
The cat let out one last meow and jumped down, sitting off to the side.  
  
“His stitches don’t seem to be bothering him too much,” Dean said, giving the cat a curious look. “I don’t know what his problem is.”  
  
“Who knows. Dinner’s ready. Give him some food. He’ll be asleep before too long.”  
  
The cat harrumphed, laying down with a pissed-off look on his little black face.  
  
“Grouch,” Dean frowned at him.  
  
They ate the weird meal Bobby had thrown together and went to sleep. The cat had curled up under Dean’s saddle after he ate.  
  
Dean wondered what his problem was. He wondered for the millionth time what he was. He scouted around camp while the others slept. He kept an eye on the cat. Now that he knew someone wasn’t going to kill him, like at the Campbell’s, he allowed himself to really wonder about the little animal. Again, it was the timing that bothered him. Demons attack, his dad goes missing, and this cat that’s not a cat shows up for the rescue trip. An idea occurred to him so forcefully that he went to wake the little black pile of fur. He brought a burning stick over so he could see his black frame in the dark night.  
  
“Hey, wake up.” He patted a silky, black paw until the cat’s head popped up, blinking at him. His eyes reflected with a purplish glow from the firelight. “You showed up right when we set out on this trip,” Dean whispered.  
  
The cat sat up more fully, coming out from under the saddle.  
  
“My dad goes missing and all of a sudden we have a cat that won’t leave our side.”  
  
The cat nodded.  
  
Dean hated to even ask the question, but he HAD to know. “Are...are you my dad?”  
  
No.  
  
Dean sighed in relief. And disappointment. He sat back feeling lost again. Back to the path at hand and the upcoming meeting with a high-level demon.  
  
He looked up when a paw landed on his arm, as if he were trying to comfort him. Oddly enough, it was a bit comforting.  
  
“Are you helping us?” Dean asked.  
  
The cat blinked at him a moment, then nodded his head yes.  
  
“Are you from Lawrence?”  
  
The cat shook his head no, looking a bit more excited. He stepped both paws onto Dean’s forearm, looking at him so intensely.  
  
“Are you from Purgatory?”  
  
No.  
  
Dean sighed. “Man, I wish you could talk to me.” He frowned hard with frustration. He threw the torch into the fire and lay back on the grass. “It feels like the whole world is against us. Every step of this fucking journey is full of enemies.” He turned to look at the cat, who was watching him. “I gotta deal with a demon just to cross the ocean and get to Freeland. That was supposed to be the easy part! Who knows what we’ll end up doing to cross from Freeland to Purgatory?” He looked up at the starry sky. “Dad...hang in there, wherever you are.”  
  
He felt the cat nuzzle into his side and lie down.  
  
“I sure hope you are a friend,” Dean muttered, feeling the tiredness from the day’s travel finally catch up to him. “I could really use a friend.”  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel’s heart was breaking for Dean. The time spent at Campbell compound had been hard on him. He could feel it in his slumped shoulders. See it in his fleeting smiles. The fact that Dean was now suspicious of him as well, was not helping.  
  
He thought Dean was going to figure it out. If only he had asked if he was from Haven. Why had he stopped?!  
  
The conversation they had about sprites had had his hopes soaring. He was yelling at them to get his point across! And no one heard anything but meowing. He had been yelling, ‘I’m Castiel!’, ‘I’m a nephilim!’, ‘I’m a sprite!’, ‘I’m Castiel...’  
  
He stayed curled into Dean’s side. He felt his muscles relax as Dean’s hand sleepily pet over his back. A new feeling bloomed inside him. His chest rumbled in a happy way. He was...purring. The realization made him stop. Dean stroked down his back again.  
  
He lay his head on Dean’s arm, letting the purr continue. They hadn’t figured out what or who he was. But they were kind. And they tried. He couldn’t ask for more.  
  
Dean said he needed a friend. Well, he needed one too. He would do anything he could to help them find John Winchester. His hands, or paws, worked rhythmically into Dean’s side. Some moments, like this, he felt much more like a cat than a nephilim.  
  
If he never had his true form again, at least he had Dean. He would be the best friend he could be.  
  
  



	7. A King and a Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam experience a whole new side of Lawrence. The one and only town where demons seem to have the upper hand.  
> Kitty-Cas takes on some new enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday guys! I will update again on Saturday and Monday.   
> I just wanted to take a quick minute to thank Shellz for your fabulous beta skills! I wouldn’t be posting without your help. You rock <3 XOXOXO

Chapter 7: A King and A Crossroads  
  
  
  
Castiel spent the train ride with Impala, Challenger, and the Campbells’ horse in the stable car. He made sure the train rats stayed out of their food and water. It was a disgusting job, but Impala seemed quite thankful for the help. Besides, Dean had been extremely leery of leaving Impala in the horsecar of the train, unattended.   
  
He felt quite proud of himself when he meowed up at Dean, trotting after the horses.  
  
“Yer gonna stay with her?” Dean had asked him as he followed the horse.  
  
He meowed back and was pleased to see Dean’s shoulders relax with a grin. “Thanks buddy.”  
  
When he wasn’t defending the horses’ provisions from rats, he lay atop Impala’s rump, watching Lawrence go by through the open-air windows. Trees, rivers, and crop fields were mostly what he saw. He watched with curiosity as they stopped in two other towns. They stayed put both times. That night passed in a rumbly dark blur. The rats were much more persistent at night. It was by far the strangest and grossest job he had ever done. Who knew battle with large rodents would be so integral to his mission?   
  
Oh, if Gabriel could see him now.  
  
There were many humans to watch when they stopped at another town that morning. They were much more emotional than nephilim as they said their farewells or reunited with loved ones. He liked it here. He felt drawn to that bond humans seemed to create so readily. They clasped forearms upon greeting each other, always touching their thumbs to the curious symbols on their forearms. He had so many questions for his own group of friends.  
  
There were more children in Lawrence than in Haven. Nephilim had children less and less as the years passed. Castiel had to wonder for the first time why this was so. And the few humans he saw around in Haven, while as free as any nephilim; why did they never talk about Lawrence? The humans collected were from Freeland or Purgatory, since travel to Purgatory was so difficult from Lawrence. And as far as he knew, which he now realized was very little, all the humans that came into Haven came from Purgatory’s most northern point at Sunken Ties. He realized he had a lot of questions for everyone. He had never been a particularly talkative person, but this lengthy time of being unable to communicate had him racking up a lot to say and ask.   
  
He watched as a human family with three children said goodbye to what looked like a grandparent. In Knowledge, the nephilim that worked in the archivist offices at The Stacks traced family lineage. Castiel knew his father because his particular ancestors were important. Most Thursday Legion people did not know, or particularly care, who their parents or ancestors were.  
  
As the train pulled away from the station, Castiel lay his head on Impala’s warm rump. He wondered what it would have been like to have a mother and father to raise him. To see them every day. To run to them with questions, rather than raising a hand in class to ask the professor. While most of his professors had been kind and nurturing, he wondered at how it would feel to have parents that not only answered your questions but cared about you and what you did.   
  
As Thursday’s Mage, he had power to make changes. He had authority to change their traditions, if he had support of his people.  
  
If his people had not already dismissed him as dead.  
  
At the next stop, a man came to get the horses. He stayed atop Impala’s rump to be safe. Impala seemed undisturbed by him being there. He sat up with a loud meow when he saw Dean, Sam, and Bobby come to the horses’ waiting pens.  
  
Impala whinnied at Dean, making him light up. “There’s my girl!” He took her from the pen while Sam got Challenger and Bobby got the horse the Campbell’s had loaned him.  
  
Dean immediately began checking Impala for any scratches, bites, or imperfections.  
  
“Good work, Thursday,” he grinned, scrubbing a heavy pet on the top of his head, behind one ear, then under his chin.  
  
Castiel meowed, fighting off a purr.  
  
“Did anyone try to mess with the horses?” He asked.  
  
Castiel shook his head no.  
  
Dean’s relief was contagious.  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” Sam laughed. “Why would someone mess with our horses?”  
  
“It’s a strange world, Sammy. Ya never know.”  
  
With the horses saddled, the trio headed north on a main road that was heavy with traffic. Many wagons and groups of riders rode to and fro.  
  
Castiel stayed at the front of Dean’s saddle, watching curiously. All the coming and going reminded him of Tree of Life. Of all the nephilim cities, humans fit in best with them. But where were all the humans in Knowledge? He could think of less than twenty-five that he knew of. And they had never spoken of living here or Purgatory, or anywhere other than Haven. He could not remember or imagine a group of nephilim he would rather be with than his companions right now.  
  
They traveled at a walk all day. The minute they stepped off the main road, Castiel could sense the greasy, prickly feel of sigils in the forest. No one holy had created them, so the power was much weaker than at Campbell compound. Nonetheless, it gave him the shivers.   
  
Dean’s nerves seemed to grow as well. He wasn’t sure if he was making the man nervous, or the general feel of the woods was bothering him. Either way, his eyes were scanning the woods constantly and Dean’s gun was un-holstered.  
  
Bobby made some sort of hand motion at the front of their line, putting both Dean and Sam on guard even more.  
  
Moments later, a rumpled, dirty man walked past them, going the opposite direction. The man never made eye contact with them and the brothers and Bobby passed by just as silently. He smelled foul and reeked of sulfur. Castiel was pretty sure he had just seen his first demon.  
  
The trees were thick, making for a shaded, cooler ride. Sound seemed muffled on the muddy road. The horses plodded on, more concerned with where they were stepping than what lurked in the greenery.  
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
They arrived at Needham before dinner. It was a small, bustling town with a gritty, dirty feel.   
  
Loud music and rowdy crowds came from several buildings. It reminded Dean of a rough street in Lebanon that had several brothels and bars. His dad and Henriksen were always settling disputes from there. He wondered who the sheriff of this town was. Or if they even had one.  
  
Bobby led them to a small inn. It was the first time they paid to eat and board for the night, and Dean was not a fan. The stables looked nasty and stunk of stale urine and horse shit. He gave Bobby a pleading look. He did not want to leave his baby in there.  
  
“They’ll be fine for one night,” Sam said, reading his unspoken words to Bobby and pushed him toward the door to the inn.  
  
“Thursday, keep an eye on them, would ya?”   
  
The cat gave him a dismayed look, turning back to the stable.  
  
Dean felt kinda bad putting him on horse-sitting duty again...but...“I’ll come get you for dinner!”  
  
Sam and Bobby both laughed at him.  
  
“It’s not funny,” Dean bitched. “This place is nasty.”  
  
“Trust me, it’s the nicest place in town. For us,” Bobby said gruffly.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘us’?” Dean asked.  
  
Bobby gave him a ‘don’t ask’ look. Great. Demons got nicer digs than humans. This place felt like he was already in another country. What was Freeland gonna be like? Let alone Purgatory? Dean sighed heavily. He better get used to this messed-up world he was delving into.  
  
They opened the door to DD Dream Motel, filing into the lobby/restaurant that took up the first floor. Booths lined the walls and round tables filled the center of the restaurant area with tables in the center and huge fireplace at the far end that was already burning. A long counter just inside the door held a register for the motel and the restaurant. The air was thick with smoke and a heavy smell of cooked meat, gravy, and beer.  
  
Alright, this place might not be all bad.  
  
“Room for three,” Bobby said.  
  
“Hey, Singer. Ain’t seen you ‘round for years!” The guy at the register, an older man with a long gray beard and his hair back in an even longer skinny braid, said with a grin.  
  
“Yeah, been busy,” Bobby nodded back.  
  
The man turned, pulling a key off a pegboard. “Room nine.”  
  
Bobby nodded. “Thank ya.”  
  
“Be down for dinner in two hours, the brisket will be fresh and hot. The waiters and waitresses too.”  
  
Bobby chuckled with a nod. He slid extra money across the counter. “Send a messenger to Crowley. I need to speak to him tonight or tomorrow.”  
  
The guy arched a gray eyebrow with a quick nod. “Just passin’ through then?”  
  
“Yep. As quickly as possible, Vern.” They followed Bobby past the counter and a hallway that, by the smell, led to the kitchen. They went up a set of back steps.   
  
Their room had four beds, wide wooden floorboards like the rest of the building, two windows, bedding made with strips of fabric that gave them a striped look, a blue cloth chair, and a wooden table with two chairs. What caught their eyes though, was the green painted walls with gaudy white and blue flowers all over them.  
  
“I’m gonna have nightmares,” Dean said tightly.  
  
“DD Dream must stand for Don’t Dare Dream,” Sam chuckled.  
  
“Welcome to Needham,” Bobby smirked, “gaudiest town in Lawrence.”  
  
“There a bathroom in this joint?” Dean asked. None of them had bathed since they were at the compound. And something told him it would only get worse from here on out.  
  
“End of the hall. It’s public. And there’s plenty of business transactions that go on in there, if ya know what I mean.”  
  
“Dude. In the bathroom?” Dean winced. “That’s...disgusting.”  
  
“Well, it’s fair warning,” Bobby chuckled. “Plenty of choices in prostitutes hang out at the door.”  
  
“Guess they can duck into the bathroom if the sheriff shows up,” Sam laughed.  
  
“Prostitution’s legal here. It’s the most common career choice.”  
  
Dean and Sam gave him an incredulous stare.  
  
“I didn’t make the laws!” Bobby shrugged.  
  
“Sounds like nobody made laws here. How’s that even a thing?” Dean scoffed.  
  
“The sheriff is Crowley. And the King holds court for any law breaking. And that’s who we need ta see. So, stay outta trouble. And don’t sleep with any of the prostitutes. Ya might get something you’ll have ta live with the rest of your life.”  
  
“Ew,” Dean and Sam both cringed.  
  
They stuck around the inn, not even going into the  
tempting gambling parlors. It had been a long time since Dean had played poker in a questionable establishment. It really could be fun. Instead, he headed to the stable to check on Impala, the other two horses, and Thursday.  
  
The dark little stable stunk and was full of flies. “You a friend of Bobby’s?” The one and only stable hand asked, eyeing him suspiciously.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Cleaned yer stalls extra. Vern said so.” The guy chewed on a piece of straw that looked saggy. Dean almost gagged when he thought about where the guy had gotten it from.  
  
He looked into Impala’s stall. She seemed freshly brushed. Her bucket of water was full and clean. The floor of her stall covered in fresh hay; he didn’t want to know what was under it. Challenger and the other horses’ stalls looked equally clean. “You seen my cat?” He called, wondering where the guy had gotten to.  
  
“The black one?” The skinny guy asked.  
  
“Yeah, that’d be him.” Dean turned, watching the guy carefully.  
  
“Shooed him outta here. He was actin’ like he was gonna attack me. Yer lucky I didn’t stomp him inta the ground.”  
  
Dean’s glare hardened. “Yer lucky I don’t stomp you into the ground.” He gave the horses one last look and left the shitty stable to look for the cat. Luckily for all involved, he hadn’t called him but once before Thursday ran out from under a wagon across the road, jumping into his arms immediately.   
  
“Hey!” Dean pulled back, holding the cat at arm’s length. “Ho! You smell like shit!” The cat was filthy, with dried shit sticking to his fur. “What happened to you?”  
  
The cat meowed loudly looking at the stable.  
  
Dean glared at the opening. “I will punch that skinny piece of shit in the throat!”  
  
The cat growled, looking at the stable just as angrily. He hissed.  
  
“You reek,” Dean frowned, sitting him down. “Come on, you’re gonna have to get a bath.”  
  
The cat continued to grumble and growl the entire way through the restaurant, down the hall, and past the six men and women lined up by the bathroom door. They backed up at the stench that came with him.  
  
Dean just grinned, opened the door and went into the washroom. There were three big tubs with supplies on a shelf. He turned water on, sighing as he realized there was no hot water here. He gave the cat a wary look. “I didn’t throw shit on you. So, I’d appreciate it if we could do this without any claws. Got it?”  
  
The cat, still glaring and standing with a hunched back as if he was disgusted at himself, nodded yes.  
  
“Alrighty then. Hop in.”  
  
The cat jumped to the edge of the tub, looking in.  
  
“No hot water bud.”  
  
He could have sworn the cat scoffed at him. He tried to hold back a laugh at his predicament.  
  
“Let’s do this.”  
  
The cat jumped into the tub and stood under the water as Dean scrubbed horse shit and urine out of his fur. The water drained away and soon enough, the stench was gone. He scrubbed him with soap, working carefully around the stitches.   
  
He rinsed him off one last time and sat him on the floor to towel him dry. “Poor guy,” Dean said softly. Half-soaked himself, he carried the damp, shivering cat back to his room.  
  
“What happened to you?” Sam asked with wide eyes.  
  
“Fuckin’ stable hand musta threw shit all over Thursday. I had to give him a bath.”  
  
“Fun,” Sam grinned.  
  
The cat’s head was down, and he curled into a ball.  
  
“What’s wrong with him? Is he hurt?” Sam asked, focusing on the cat instead of Dean’s wet clothes.  
  
Dean held him up, looking into his face. “Whatsa matter?”  
  
He had to tilt the cat further to see his face again.  
  
“Are you hurt?”  
  
No.  
  
“Are you...upset?”  
  
The cat tucked his head further.  
  
“Dude, you needed a bath. I gave you one. It’s no big deal.” Dean put the cat back against his chest, rolling his eyes at Sam.  
  
Sam gave the cat a curious look. “I think he’s embarrassed.”  
  
“At least he had protection. I gotta go down there and fight those vultures off on my own.” Dean grabbed a change of clothes, laying the cat on his bed.  
  
“You wanna come watch?” He winked at the cat. “Tit for tat!”  
  
If a cat could smile, Thursday did.  
  
“I’ll be back, then we should head down for dinner.”  
  
“Yeah, Bobby’s already down there havin’ a whiskey with Vern,” Sam grinned.  
  
“I won’t be long. The prostitutes were skanky. And there’s no hot water.”  
  
He heard Sam laugh as he left, heading for the bathroom again.  
  
“See somethin’ you liked?” The blonde-haired guy asked him, leering a half rotten grin at him.  
  
“Not today,” Dean muttered, going past them, and heading for what he knew was going to be a frigid bath.  
  
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
  
Castiel hated being a cat. He hated creepy demon stable hands most of all. He had watched the guy closely as he cleaned the stalls, wishing he could laugh when Challenger bit his shoulder. But when the guy kicked Challenger back in retribution, he had hissed and howled at him.  
  
He already knew the guy was a demon. He reeked of sulfur. But when his eyes slid to all black, Castiel had attacked him with a frenzy of clawed swats.  
  
The bastard had waited until he finished with the three stalls before dumping a bucket of urine-soaked horse poop on him. Castiel had run, knowing the demon could easily kill him.  
  
The embarrassment had doubled when Dean bathed him. Dean had been nothing but kind about the whole ‘shitty’ ordeal. But it was humiliating.  
  
He tried to shake off the traumatic event and went downstairs for dinner. There were as many demons eating in the restaurant as there were humans. Dean, Sam, and Bobby seemed to not notice the difference. He wondered if in his nephilim form he would be able to tell.   
  
He meowed a thank you to Sam, who made him a plate of finely torn up meat right on the table. No one there seemed to care that a cat was eating on the table with them.  
  
Dean relaxed after his third beer. They lingered there, eating seconds, and drinking four or five beers a piece. Castiel ate his fill and drank all the water he wanted from a cup on the table. He had never had beer. It smelled of hops and stunk, he thought. Nephilim drank wine, grain liquor, water, and plenty of juices, but alcohol did not have the same effect on them as it did on humans. At least, not as quickly.  
  
He enjoyed listening to Bobby, Sam, and Dean joke and laugh through their meal. Vern joined them several times, adding to the jovial mood. And they had their appointment with Crowley tomorrow, early in the morning.  
  
Castiel was glad. He wanted to get out of this town. He did not like to see the horses left with a demon.   
  
Late that evening they all headed upstairs, except Dean, who went to check on the horses.  
  
He curled up in bed. The bath might have been miserable and humiliating, but he was thankful to be so clean.  
  
Dean came in with a candle to light his way.  
  
“Horses look alright?” Bobby asked sleepily from his bed.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean did not elaborate, but Castiel could see that he was not thrilled with their accommodations.  
  
Dean tugged the cover, so Castiel got up to let him in. He jumped down, wondering if he should sleep on the empty bed. He prowled around the room, sniffing at the door as Dean got out of his clothes and into bed.  
  
The candle stayed lit, so he came back over to see what Dean was doing. Sam and Bobby were already asleep. He looked up and Dean grinned at him. He patted the bed.  
  
Castiel’s chest filled with a warm glow. He jumped up on the bed, rubbing his head against Dean’s chin, receiving appreciative pets in return. It was the only way he knew to show him just how he cared about him. He curled into a ball at Dean’s chest and they both fell sound asleep.  
  
  
  
******************************  
  
  
  
Dean arrived at Needham’s court building on foot, with Bobby and Sam in tow. He had asked Thursday to keep an eye on the horses, promising him a bath if need be, but to stay out of trouble.  
  
He hadn’t been happy about it, but the cat stayed. He had never had a pet before, besides horses. It was odd how he had become dependent on having the little guy around. Even if he did creep him out occasionally with his watchful eyes and head shaking. Whatever else he was, or whatever had happened to him, he was a good cat.  
  
An ancient sign, almost blocked by giant overgrown weeds, read, ‘Needham Asylum’. He had no idea what Asylum meant, but the four story, white building gave him the creeps. Steps lead up to a porch that ran the width of the front with giant columns that supported a balcony which ran the full front on the second floor. It looked as though the building could have been beautiful. A hundred years ago. And with a major overhaul.  
  
A man in black breaches, a black coat, and he couldn’t see it, but he was sure he wore a stick up his ass, stood sentry at the door.  
  
“We have a meeting scheduled with Crowley,” Bobby announced.  
  
“Name?”  
  
“Bobby Singer.”  
  
Dean would have preferred to stay on the dilapidated porch but followed Bobby inside after the man in black.  
  
They followed the man across a wide foyer and down a set of stairs to the basement level. Everything about the people here seemed so foreign to him.  
  
Sergeant Stick Up His Ass led them through dull reddish-brown tunnels lit by candles along the walls and iron chandeliers with candles on them. It was gloomy and at least five degrees colder in the long corridors. Their steps echoed and Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
They walked into a wide main room with ancient bricked walls. A wooden throne sat at the end of the room with another man wearing all black sitting there with a mildly amused look on his face.  
  
“Well, well, well. Bobby Singer. What brings you to my door again?”  
  
His speech reminded him of Bela. As if he wasn’t turned off enough.  
  
“Here on business,” Bobby answered stiffly.  
  
“Well aren’t you the busy beaver.” Crowley waved their escort away. The man bowed, spun on his heel, and left quickly.  
  
Dean had no idea just how well his father ran his duties as sheriff until now. This felt nothing like the hall at the bunker in Lebanon.  
  
“Who’re your new partners in crime?” Crowley eyed him and Sam with a grin, and eyes of pure mischief.  
  
“We’re seeking passage to Freeland. Round trip. But I don’t know when we’ll be coming back.”  
  
“Sight-seeing?” Crowley asked dryly, not missing. that Bobby had not answered him.  
  
Bobby sighed. “I’ve brought payment that I think you’ll find more than enough.” He opened the box he had carried here, displaying the ten chalices.  
  
Crowley stood up, strolling around the box. He picked one up and sniffed it. Then another. “Interesting.” He eyed him and Sam again. “I assume you have more.”  
  
Sam handed Bobby his bag. “A few ingredients I thought you might appreciate.” He spread several items out onto the now closed box of chalices.  
  
Crowley’s eyes took in the array of items and went back to Sam. “Who are you? What do you plan on doing in Freeland?”  
  
Bobby gave Sam a nod. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. We’re going to look for our father.”  
  
A spark of something Dean could not read crossed the man’s face. “Winchester. You’re John Winchester’s sons.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam answered, giving Bobby a nervous look.  
  
“John’s been taken by demons. His sons and I just want to get him back. We got no quarrel with anyone else.”  
  
Crowley sat back in his throne again, eyeing them with a whole new interest. “Which demon took him?”  
  
“We don’t know,” Dean answered, feeling edgier by the second.  
  
Crowley narrowed his eyes. “You put me into a bad place with a request like this.”  
  
Dean knew there was a lot more going on than Crowley was saying. “Do you know who took my dad?”  
  
Crowley’s brow raised, his lip curling in amusement. “Me? No.” His look narrowed as he slowly paced closer to him. “I had no idea John was missing.”  
  
“Well,” Dean swallowed, unnerved by the dark look in the man’s eyes, “he provided you with a position of power. He’s like a...partner to you. Kinda makes this your problem too.”  
  
Sam’s eyes were bulging in shock and Bobby rubbed at his beard, eyes darting between him and Crowley.  
  
“Right?” Dean asked, fighting the quaking nervousness inside himself.  
  
“John Winchester is an ally, true. He certainly did not provide me with power.”  
  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. If his dad dealt with a demon, willingly, he had to have something on him.  
  
Crowley watched him as he prowled back to his seat, sitting with a smug grin. “How about you wait outside while John’s son and I become better acquainted.” He waved his hand and Sam and Bobby were gone.  
  
“Where’d they go?” Dean demanded.  
  
Crowley was on his feet again with a more serious, yet still curious, look. “Dean Winchester.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Crowley’s eyes ran up and down Dean’s body as he circled him slowly, stopping in front of him. “When did this happen?”  
  
“Ten days ago. Late at night. There were four of them that we know of. They all got away, taking my dad with them.”  
  
“Why was he taken?”  
  
“No idea. It may have to do with Azazel. They tangled in the past, but we aren’t sure yet.”  
  
Crowley shook his head slowly. “You really have no idea what’s going on here, do you?”  
  
Dean swallowed. “No.” He only knew enough to know he was missing something.  
  
Crowley paced away from him. “Word is, war is brewing way up north. And your father was one of the humans Azazel suspected of talking to a sprite.”  
  
“A sprite? My dad has NEVER talked to a sprite.”  
  
“I would wager your dad has done plenty of things his little boys don’t know about.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “I know my dad was a ruthless hunter for a while. But he’s been out of it for years.”  
  
“He was here on business two months ago,” Crowley grinned. “Business in Freeland. Or further north.”  
  
Dean could feel the blood drain from his face. His dad had taken a three-week trip...but that was about sheriff business. Right? Fuck.  
  
“But...what would MY dad have to do with that?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Crowley said pointedly. “But I certainly can’t have you traipsing around Freeland or Purgatory to help your dad reignite some sort of sprite war. The nephilim are too powerful. And you see, if humans are below us, nephilim above us, it puts us in...a bad place.”  
  
Dean paced back and forth in front of the throne and this king of the crossroads. “I got no ties to any brewing wars. I just want to get my father back.”  
  
Crowley gave him a bored look.  
  
“I just...” Dean paced quicker. “My dad can’t really have anything to do with sprites!” But someone had been at their door that night, warning their dad that he was in danger. That man in the long tan coat had looked convinced that their dad needed to talk to him...and then he had disappeared without a trace. Could he have been a sprite? Did Samuel know? Bobby? And why would his dad have anything to do with sprite business? He stopped pacing, staring at Crowley. “I have to find him.”  
  
“It’ll cost you more than you’re willing to pay.” Crowley stared down at him unblinking. “I’ll let Bobby go, for the lovely chalice set and thoughtful ingredients. But not you. Or that moose of a brother of yours.”  
  
Dean stepped closer to the throne. “I’m getting on that ship.”  
  
Crowley sighed. “It’ll cost you your soul.”  
  
Dean stepped back. “My...”  
  
“You get passage for all in your party and ten good years to enjoy. Then? You’re mine.”  
  
“What? No!”  
  
Crowley sat back with a grin. “I told you the cost was too steep.”  
  
Dean paced slowly. “What does that mean?”  
  
“It means,” Crowley leaned forward with an eager grin, “you have free passage, ten years, and then you work for me.”  
  
Ten years? At the rate this rescue mission was going, he’d be lucky to survive the next month. Ten years was a long time. He’d be 34. And then he’d be Crowley’s doorman. There had to be a way out of a deal like that. What if Crowley couldn’t find him? He could live in the mountains like a hermit. IF he even survived this trip. They could try to find another way. But Bobby said this was the only route out of Lawrence. Rescue his dad? Or accept defeat? His stomach clenched and his hands began to sweat. “I want more. I want a weapon against demons, since I’m gonna have to fight them.”  
  
Crowley’s eyes lit up maliciously. “Passage to Purgatory will be paid as well. No extra weapons.”  
  
Shit. But that sounded good too.   
  
“Round trip,” Crowley added, propping his chin on his hand, tapping a finger in an almost bored motion.   
  
Dean could practically feel the foreign soil under his boots. “Done.”  
  
A cold, sinking chill filled Dean’s chest. He was suddenly nauseous with the knowledge that he had done something terrible. “Crowley,” he said weakly, looking up at the demon. “I don’t want anyone to know that I...”  
  
“Sold your soul?” Crowley grinned. “Done.” He waved his hand and a long scroll of paper rolled, bouncing off Crowley’s knee, to the floor, and all the way to Dean’s boots. Writing covered it, with a big X and a line at the bottom. Crowley’s signature flared into view below the line.  
  
“You don’t tell Bobby. Or Sam. Or anyone.”  
  
“It’s in there,” Crowley nodded.  
  
“Passage for everyone in my party from here to Freeland and from Freeland to Purgatory. And back.”  
  
“All there,” Crowley grinned.  
  
“Got a pen?”  
  
Crowley grinned again. “We sign in blood here.”  
  
Dean pulled out a small knife, cutting his finger. Blood dripped onto the contract. Before he could even kneel to write his name, the blood moved, forming the letters of his name in red script. Dean’s eyes grew wide. He had rarely seen magic before today.  
  
Crowley waved his hand and the cut healed.  
  
The scroll rolled up to Crowley’s hand. He tucked it into his jacket. “My copy.” He grinned with satisfaction as he waved both hands out at Dean. “Your copy.”  
  
Dean’s entire body burned with tiny pin pricks, making him jolt with a yell. Words flashed in his skin all over his body, then faded just as quickly. He panted, giving Crowley a glare.  
  
“Nice doing business with you. See you in ten years.”  
  
“Where’s Sam? Where’s Bobby?” Dean demanded.  
  
Crowley got to his feet. “They’re waiting at the door. They think we had a rather pleasant meeting and that Bobby’s dishware bought you all passage.”  
  
Dean’s hand flared with sudden pain, a sigil glowing red-hot in his palm. “There’s your tickets.”  
  
Dean hissed at the pain, stepping back from Crowley again. He had to find a way out of this deal. There had to be a way.  
  
Broody Henchman number 12 led him back to the front door, where Bobby and Sam waited cluelessly.  
  
As soon as Dean was within arm’s reach, they went into action again.  
  
Down the porch steps and heading back to the inn, Bobby shook his head. “I’m glad that worked. I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”  
  
Dean frowned. They knew nothing. He was glad. There was a modicum of shame with the heaping of worry the deal left him with. At least Bobby and Sam didn’t know.   
  
A feeling of lonely despair settled on his shoulders. What had he done? Regret clenched him hard. He should not have made the deal. He wiped sweat off his forehead. If he didn’t get his shit together, he was going to have to explain what happened. There would be no living with them if they knew.  
  
And he only had ten years.  
  
He sighed heavily. He damn well better make good use of them.  
  



	8. Whitefish, Dead fish, Folly, and Rufus Turner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of travel in this chapter. The gang are finally leaving Lawrence. Dean loves traveling by ship about as much as he loves flying on the show. They get to meet one of Bobby’s old friends.
> 
> Fun Fact: both ships mentioned in this chapter are ships on Supernatural.

Chapter 8. Whitefish, Dead Fish, Folly, and Rufus Turner  
  
  
  
  
  
Dean clung to the rail of Fizzles Folly, puking for what felt like the millionth time today.   
  
“Remind me ta leave you at home next time,” Bobby grimaced.   
  
“Sounds good,” Dean huffed. “Hope I like Freeland, I might never leave it.”  
  
“Huh.” Bobby handed him a cup of water. “I doubt that.”  
  
“What kinda friggin’ ship is this anyway? I thought it would be big! We’re on the OCEAN!”  
  
Bobby smacked his back again with a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry. We won’t fall in.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Dean panted, “I’m gonna die before this stupid ship sinks. You gotta save Impala.”  
  
“Quit yer cryin’,” Bobby scoffed. “Ya ain’t gonna die. Ya might wish ya did, but ya ain’t.”  
  
The words were truer than Bobby could know. The feeling of panic raced from Dean’s stomach right up his throat and he turned, almost missing the rail as he puked again.  
  
“Jeez, boy,” Bobby sighed. “Sip this. It’s peppermint water. Helps settle yer stomach.”  
  
Dean turned, sitting against the rail as the little ship heaved with the waves. “How are you not puking?”  
  
Bobby shrugged. “Try comin’ below. And don’t watch the water.”  
  
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, blowing out a breath. He got to his feet, Bobby helping get him below.  
  
“Try sleepin’ it off.”  
  
Sam gave him a worried grin. He was laying in his bunk, reading. The thought made Dean’s mouth start watering, in a bad way.  
  
“Dude, you gonna make it?” Sam asked, sitting up.  
  
“Yes,” Dean muttered miserably. He lay on his side and tried to think about anything pleasant to get his mind off his pitching, heaving bed.  
  
The cat jumped onto the bed lightly, walking around him and laying at his queasy stomach, pressing against him lightly.  
  
Dean took a deep breath, letting his weary body find sleep.  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
Cold air and a steady ship. Castiel had never been out in the ocean before. The oceans were nothing but divides of turbulent water filled with sea life that was poisonous to all people; nephilim, human, or monster. The ocean was where the Archangel Lucifer had finally died. The legend said that as he gasped his last breath, an archangel blade in his chest, he surged one final blow, rippling out through all the seas in the world. The curse was so complete that all sea life, from whale to tuna to kelp, if even touched, would kill.  
  
Now, none could fish from the sea as ancient humans had. None swam in them for fear the simplest brush of seaweed against skin would begin a black rot that would spread through your body, killing you. Unless you lived in Tree of Knowledge, where Raphael, and some of his abettors, could heal the fish and make them safe to eat. It was sad that man could never taste them. The tender meat from fish and crustaceans was some of his favorite food.  
  
He padded his way silently along the rail, watching the murky water churn at the sides of the boat. He had just checked on the horses. They seemed fine. Since late last night the waters had settled. Dean was doing better, but he still was not eating.  
  
He had pushed every bit of grace he could muster in his tiny body to heal Dean’s stomach. He wasn’t sure any of it had gotten through, but he had tried.   
  
He hopped down the steep stairs and went into their room. Dean rolled over. “Did you check the horses?”  
  
Castiel nodded yes.  
  
“You’re the best cat in the world,” he moaned, turning back over.  
  
Castiel doubted that. A good cat would stay with the horses. But he was not a damn cat. He trotted back to the top deck, wishing the next shores he saw were Haven’s. He wished Gabriel would come get him. Change him back into a nephilim. He had only felt his wings a few times, but he missed them terribly.  
  
He wondered what his abettors had done. Rachel, Hannah, and Anna would surely have gone back to Tree of Knowledge. What was Gabriel doing? How had he explained his disappearance? He wondered with a sickening worry if it had caused any trouble. But there was already trouble. Something was happening between Gabriel and Michael. What it was, he had no idea. But Gabriel had practically thrown him to Lawrence. Why had he been in such a hurry?  
  
The thoughts circled until he fell asleep in the warm sun.  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
“Welcome ta Whitefish, Freeland,” Bobby said darkly. “Stay close, we’re the outsiders here.”  
  
“You better keep up,” Sam grinned, looking back at Dean.  
  
He flipped him off with a wide grin. He didn’t give a SHIT what any of them thought. His stomach was happy. His feet were on the ground and he was staying here. He wasn’t even willing to ride Impala. Nope. He was walking.   
  
He had been off that piece of shit tub Crowley called a ship for four hours now. And he was never so relieved.   
  
Bobby dropped back to ride beside him, Sam just in front. “We’re headed to an old buddy of mine. Name’s Rufus Turner. We used to hunt together. His place is off the beaten trail a bit, but it’ll be a roof over our heads tonight. I don’t like sleepin’ in the open in Freeland. It’s a risky play.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Long as his stable doesn’t look like Vern’s, we’re fine.”  
  
“Nah, nice stable. Can’t promise Rufus’ll be nice though. Guy’s kinda a grouch.”  
  
“Yay. Two grouches, one grouchy cat, and Sam, goin’ to visit a grouch. Sounds like it will work out just fine.”  
  
Bobby smirked. “It’ll be fine. I brought him a bottle of his favorite whiskey. Bought it off Johnnie Walker himself.”  
  
“Nice,” Dean smirked. “Don’t suppose he’ll share?”  
  
“With a Winchester? Yeah. He’ll share.”  
  
Dean gave up walking after two and a half miles. They trotted another four miles. He could feel the familiar burn of the muscles in his thighs. He chuckled when the cat sighed with relief when they slowed to a walk. He enjoyed the steady breeze that blew the stench of sea air off them.   
  
It was dark by the time they neared Rufus’ cabin. As they came around the last bend in the narrow, overgrown lane that Bobby swore led to Rufus, a man with dark skin and an even darker demeanor stood on the porch with a gun pointed at them.  
  
“State your business,” came his deep voice.  
  
“Point that thing somewhere else you old coot!” Bobby yelled back.  
  
“Bobby? Bobby Singer?”  
  
“The one and only,” Bobby grinned, pulling his horse to a stop.  
  
“Ohhh,” Rufus shook his head with a frown. “This can’t be good. What in the Creator’s name has you back in Freeland?”  
  
“Just passin’ through. Thought I’d say hi.”  
  
“Headed ta Purgatory again? Just can’t get over that Ellen, can ya?”  
  
Bobby laughed, giving Dean a nervous shake of his head.  
  
“Who’s Ellen?” Dean grinned.  
  
“Who’s that?” Rufus looked at Dean and Sam with suspicion.  
  
“Put that damn gun down, ya idjit. That’s Sam and Dean.”  
  
Rufus’ face lit up with a grin and the rifle finally leant against his shoulder. “Damn! They got old! Last I heard about them they were eight and twelve! Damn you, Bobby! You’re makin’ me feel old!”  
  
“You are old, you old bastard!” Bobby laughed, clasping forearms, then slapping the man on the shoulder.  
  
Rufus’ face sobered. “You seen Patience? She doin’ okay?”

“She’s good,” Bobby grinned. “Haven’t seen her in a while, but I get letters on the regular.”

“Patience?” Sam asked. “Are you Patience Turner’s uncle?”

“I am,” Rufus grinned.

Sam and Dean exchanged a laugh. Sam explained quickly. “Dad tells stories sometimes about you and him. He just always calls you ‘that old coot, Turner’.”

“Does he now,” Rufus said flatly, while Bobby laughed hard. “Remind me to tell Patience to put a nice spell on him. Give him a case of the slobberin’ fits.”

Dean and Sam fought off a laugh. Dean could only imagine the likes of Rufus, Bobby, and his dad on a hunt together.

“I don’t have room for three horses in the stable, but you can put them in the pen. It’s clean country ‘round here. The werewolves and I got a understandin’ of sorts.”  
  
“I bet,” Bobby chuckled. “Brought ya somethin’ fer yer troubles,” Bobby pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the saddlebag, handing it to Rufus.  
  
“Damn, Bobby! It IS good to see you!”  
  
They unsaddled the horses. Dean volunteered to brush and settle them in. He was not that eager to stay cooped up inside again. The rest went inside for a late dinner. Dean took advantage of the lantern light to clean the muck off the saddles and girths. He scrubbed the halters clean and hung them from the fence to dry.   
  
Sam came out, carrying a bowl of chili and three biscuits. “Take a break, man. Wait ‘til you taste these biscuits!”  
  
Dean scrubbed his hands clean and splashed water on his face from a rain barrel. He pulled his shirt off, wiping himself dry.  
  
“You should hear Rufus telling stories about Bobby when he was our age! They’re funny!”  
  
“I bet,” Dean grinned, sitting on the porch, taking the bowl and a biscuit.  
  
“You okay? You been pretty quiet lately,” Sam said more quietly.  
  
“Well, I puked for two days on that damn boat,” Dean sighed. “Guess I’m just kinda wiped out.”  
  
Sam nodded. “You should come in. Get some rest. And food.”  
  
“This is so good!” Dean said around a mouth full of chili and biscuit.  
  
They went inside and joined Bobby and Rufus at the table.  
  
Dean was grateful for all the boisterous laughter Rufus and Bobby provided.  
  
“I can hardly wait to meet this Ellen!” Dean laughed. Bobby blushed, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong. Ellen is a fabulous gal. I mean, I’d do anything for her. But her life is in Purgatory. I just can’t stay there.” Bobby shrugged a shoulder, sipping his whiskey, but it suddenly made a bit more sense why things had never panned out with Jody Mills. He really had a thing for this Ellen lady.  
  
“Well, it sounds like a wild damn place,” Dean grinned.   
  
“Oh, it is,” Bobby and Rufus nodded.   
  
Dean’s thoughts drifted back to the conversation he had with Crowley.  
  
“Are any of them at war, in Purgatory?” Dean asked, the question landing bluntly at the table.  
  
“War?” Rufus leaned forward on his elbows. “They’re always at war. All over the damn place. The whole damn country is a battleground.”  
  
Dean frowned. “But...there’re towns and some structure to the country. Right?”  
  
“Huh. Barely,” Rufus shook his head with a dark look. “The vamps, the wolves, the shapeshifters, the demons...they all want more. And they kill to get whatever they want. Ruthless bastards, all of ‘em.”  
  
“So, those are the four big players?” Dean asked, trying to put together a picture of the place he had only heard stories about.   
  
“Pretty much. Plus the Leviathan. They’re almost starved out. But every now and then there’s a resurgence of them.”  
  
“And...do sprites live there?” Dean winced slightly at the absurdity of the question.  
  
Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Only sprites I know of are a few that lurk around Sunken Ties.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows raised this time. “You’ve been to Sunken Ties?”  
  
Rufus nodded. “Once. Hunting Leviathan.” He looked lost in dark thoughts. “Strange place. Marshy. Sad, really. It’s just so broken.”  
  
“You ever see a sprite?”  
  
Rufus nodded.  
  
Dean leaned forward. “What do they look like? Pointy ears? Super tall? Sparkly skin?”  
  
“Boy, you been readin’ too many nursery rhymes.” Rufus shook his head. “They look like regular people.”  
  
Dean sighed, sitting back with some surprise.  
  
“I only saw him from far away. They never cross the Ties, but sometimes they patrol it. Still keeping people out, I guess.”  
  
Dean nodded. Why would sprites want Purgatory back? What the hell would prompt a war?  
  
“No need to worry about sprites,” Rufus dismissed. “They’re powerful, but they’re dying out as far as I know. I tell ya what does have my hackles up. These damn demons. There’s more and more of them here. Used to be mostly vamps, kitsune, shifters, werewolves, monsters! Ya know? But now...there’s demons everywhere. Something’s coming. I can feel it.”  
  
Chills ran up Dean’s arms. Bobby frowned, but Dean could tell he took his old friend seriously.  
  
“We best hit the hay,” Bobby said.  
  
“I’m just gonna check on the horses.” Dean nodded goodnight and headed outside. Thursday sat atop a fence post, meowing as Dean got close.  
  
“Hey, Thursday.” Dean put his arms over the top rail. “Anything bad happening out here?”  
  
The cat shook his head no.  
  
Dean sighed, feeling slightly relieved. “I don’t think I like it here. It feels so different. Shit.” His head dropped down onto his forearms. “I shouldn’t have made that deal. Dammit!” He shoved back from the fence, punching the top board.  
  
The cat stood, back hunched with a shocked look.  
  
Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Aaahhhhgggg. Sorry. I just...I just think I really fucked something up. Like...really. Fucked. Up.”  
  
He stared at the cat in desperate need to connect with someone. Anyone. “Did you make a bad deal with a demon? Is that how you became a cat?”  
  
The cat lowered his head, still staring at Dean. A look of what Dean guessed was awe or worry on his little furry face. He shook his head no.  
  
He sagged back onto the top rail. The cat ran along it a few steps, walking onto his arm and lay across the back of his neck.  
  
Dean snickered, caught off guard and feeling slightly out of control. “What are you doing?”  
  
As he stood up, the cat wrapped himself across his shoulders.   
  
“Dude, I don’t know what you are, but you should REALLY find better people to hang around with.” He looked the strange cat in the eyes as it perched on his shoulder. “You are attached to a group of people on a suicide mission.”  
  
The cat meowed.  
  
“It’s true. Me most of all. About anybody else in this whole friggin’ world would be better to attach yourself to than me. I am...” Dean stared up at the vast sky, his head resting on the cat’s body. “I am so fucking screwed.”   
  
He pulled the cat off his shoulders and sat him back on the fence post. “Go find somebody better to follow around. It sure as shit isn’t me.”  
  
  
*********************************************  
  
  
Castiel felt a rush of cold fear hit him. What had Dean done? Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the ship making Dean sick. He was so upset. When he asked him if he had made a bad deal with a demon, it clicked. Something happened when he was with the King of the Crossroads. Had he made a deal of some sort?  
  
Dean had pushed him away, but he was sure it was only a cry for help. He followed Dean everywhere he went that night. He followed him as he walked the yard, checked on the horses, sat at the table, and finally, when he lay down on his bedroll and went to sleep next to Sam.  
  
Castiel slept in front of the door so Dean would not leave without him knowing it.   
  
Whatever form he was stuck with, he needed to find a way back to Gabriel. This rescue mission had gone so far off track that John Winchester was the least of his concerns.  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
They left Rufus’ house early that morning. They headed for the nearest docking town on the north coast of Freeland.  
  
It was a day’s ride with one night camping. Dean had to admit, he preferred the camping. He cooked dinner this time, shooing Bobby away from the pot, getting a thankful look from Sam.   
  
They had stopped early enough that they had a few hours of daylight. Dean took advantage of it, making a potato and ham soup. Rufus had given them a loaf of bread for the road, making it a nice meal.  
  
“Dean, this is great,” Sam said, following it with a loud belch.  
  
“Good,” Dean nodded. The soup had turned out well. Even the cat fussed for more.   
  
They settled in around the fire to relax as the night grew darker.  
  
“So, Bobby, what’s Purgatory gonna be like?” Asked Sam.  
  
Bobby blew out a breath. “There’re roads, but they’re rough. There’re towns, but there aren’t that many things living in them. The woods and roads between towns are the most dangerous. All sorts of monsters lurk about. Wolves and vamps hunt in packs. Shifters stick to towns mostly. Gotta watch for wraiths and ghouls too. Weren’t really that many demons around before but sounds like we’ll be seein’ more of them. We’re takin’ the first ship out tomorrow. It sails for Stockville. That’s where Ellen lives. We’ll stay at Ellen’s place. When we’re ready, we can head to Lincoln. See if we can’t find that knife and find out where Azazel’s holed up these days.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean sighed.  
  
“I think we should leave the horses with Ellen and go on foot,” Bobby said quietly.  
  
Dean looked over at him. “That’s a lot a walkin’. Slow goin’.”  
  
“Yeah,” Bobby sighed, “but desperate vamps will eat ‘em. Werewolves. It’s pretty risky.”  
  
Dean frowned at that. Speed versus safety. But speed could also mean safety. It was a hard call to make.   
  
“Dean, Rufus says this boat we’re getting on tomorrow is a lot bigger than Frizzles Folly. So, you might not get as sick.”  
  
“Uhhh...I hope.” Just the thought made him tired.   
  
  
*************************************************  
  
  
They boarded the much larger ship, S.S. Espirito Santo late the next morning in the small port village of Sea Pines. There was little to the town itself. The people all seemed closed-mouthed and suspicious of travelers. He had taken the money Bobby had given him as passage and stowed it in his bags.  
  
It was an unnerving encounter to show the ticket merchant his hand. The sigil glowed red and the man immediately gave him better rooms and all expenses paid.  
  
“Sir, your cat will have to be kept on a leash any time it is out of your staterooms.”  
  
Dean gave the cat at his heels an amused look. “That’ll go over well, I’m sure.”  
  
The cat glared at him.  
  
“Not my rule.”  
  
“Is the cat a familiar?” The man asked.  
  
Dean tossed the idea around a moment. A familiar might get better treatment. And he wasn’t a normal cat. “Yeah.”  
  
“Then by all means, please feel free to bring him with you to meals and what-not. We service all kinds. We do request you limit any spellwork to minimal mundane activities. It can be off-putting to others.”  
  
“Alright,” Dean nodded. Great. Now these people thought he was a witch.   
  
He took their tickets and headed for the others. Thursday meowed at him.   
  
“Dude, it’s not my rule! But you’re need to suck it up and deal. Or stay in the room.”  
  
Sam gave him a curious look.   
  
Dean shrugged. “The merchant says Thursday has to wear a leash any time he’s out of the room.”  
  
Sam’s eyebrows lifted in a worried frown. “I don’t think he’ll like that,” Sam whispered loudly.  
  
“No shit,” Dean smirked, not bothering to whisper.   
  
“I’ll leave that job for you,” Sam smirked. “Since you two are besties.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. But it was true. The cat never left his side lately. And he did usually sleep with him. Dean shrugged. “He’ll be a man about it.” He looked down at Thursday. “Right?”  
  
The cat made a growling, spitting sound with narrowed eyes.  
  
“I think that was cat for ‘fuck you’,” Sam laughed.  
  
“Whatever,” Dean chuckled. He had bigger problems than his cat’s pissy attitude. Like, how was he going to survive two nights at sea. This trip took longer than the trip from Lawrence to Freeland. “Come on, I’ll carry you for now, Mr. Too-good-for-a-leash.”  
  
He stooped down, picking the cat up and putting him on his shoulders like a thick scarf. “Keep a low profile. And don’t claw me.”  
  
The cat grumbled at him but stayed in place as they checked their horses and saddlebags.  
  
They were all impressed with their state rooms. They had windows, for one. And the walls were white, making the small space look a bit bigger. They had two rooms with two beds each. Bobby was mildly worried they overpaid or got the wrong rooms, insisting the money he gave them only bought them lower deck cot privileges.  
  
“I chipped in,” Dean explained. “It’s no big deal, Bobby, just thought we could use some fresh air.”  
  
“Then you get one room to yerself,” Bobby insisted. “We’ll be plenty sick of each other by the time we git back home.”  
  
Dean didn’t argue with that. Privacy was slim. They had been away from home for days now.   
  
They went back to the dock, eating at a nearby pub before shipping out. Dean thought it a bit of a waste, since he would most likely puke it all back up. But fuck it. At least he could eat today.  
  
The pub was thick with people. Dean watched with barely masked curiosity as vampires ordered blood from the bar. A family of shapeshifters sat at the table next to them. He wouldn’t have known what they were, but the two kids kept shifting into different looking kids.  
  
He got a nod from a man with a skinny calico cat under his arm. He nodded back and then realized the guy was must be a witch and thought he was one too.  
  
Great.  
  
They finished their meal and headed back to the ship just before it disembarked. Sam and Bobby headed for the top deck, watching Freeland disappear from view. Dean opted to go to his room.  
  
He put Thursday on the empty bed and flopped onto his own. “I shoulda brought a book.” He never had been good with down time. He sat up, looking at the cat. “We should take your stitches out.”  
  
The cat nodded yes and lay fully on his side so Dean could easily work. He dug around in his bag until he pulled out a pair of scissors. He knelt at the bed, separating the fur so he could easily find the stitches. “Wish I woulda done a neater job,” he mumbled, seeing where the skin puckered up at two spots. “We were in a hurry though, weren’t we?” He snipped each little stitch, having to work the tip of the scissors between the fur and string in several places.  
  
The cat lay there patiently.  
  
“Wish I knew more about you,” Dean said quietly, working quickly, but as gently as possible. “I bet you have better stuff to be doing right now than taking on werewolves. I don’t know if I ever really thanked you for that. It was pretty frickin’ badass. I mean...you’re so small. To jump in there and fight a werewolf...” Dean shook his head just thinking about it. “You’re pretty amazing. And...I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m glad you are.”  
  
Dean cut out the last stitch and rubbed his hand along the mended skin. “Looks pretty good.”  
  
He watched as the cat sat up, turning to sniff at the newly mended site. He turned, bumping Dean’s chin with his head.  
  
Dean grinned, kissing the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
Dean managed to keep his dinner down and slept well all night. The bigger ship and better seas helped him.  
  
Castiel stayed in the room, refusing to wear a leash to go to breakfast. A leash. Of all the asinine things. He growled just thinking about it.  
  
His flaw in his plan? He hadn’t been to the bathroom since yesterday. Of all the infuriating circumstances to find himself in.  
  
He paced the room until Dean came back. He began meowing incessantly until he had the man’s full attention.  
  
“I brought you food! And water! Dude, what’s your deal?” Dean frowned, watching him pace in front of the door.  
  
He looked back at the food, thinking. “Ohhh. You gotta pee.”  
  
Castiel meowed loudly, running to him.  
  
Dean laughed. “So, you’re gonna man up and wear the leash, huh?”  
  
He hissed, indignant, at Dean’s remark.  
  
“Alright, pissy-pants,” Dean laughed, getting the twine out that he had attempted to put on him yesterday. He knelt, tying the thin rope around his neck.  
  
He wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Mage of Thursday. On a damn leash to a human.  
  
He followed Dean out the door and up to the next floor, which lead out to a deck. People of all sorts of smells walked about. It was entirely too public. He looked up at Dean with a pleading look.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’ll check on Impala. I’m sure she won’t care if you use her stall.”  
  
Castiel sighed with relief, walking with him to the back of the ship and down a large ramp. The stables. They were much cleaner than on the small ship. They smelled better as well.   
  
Dean pulled Impala out of the stall to take her for a walk. Castiel could kiss the man for giving him such privacy. He did his business and sat at the door, waiting for the pair to return.  
  
Dean came back, talking to another guy. He put Impala back in the stall, laughing with the guy about the crew of Pishtacos running the ship.   
  
“So, you just sign up and they take a little fat off?” Dean chuckled, patting his stomach.  
  
The man grinned at Dean, his eyes trickling down Dean’s body with a hunger in his eyes that made Castiel’s stomach clench in fear and disgust. Couldn’t he smell the decay in him? The taint of blood? The man was obviously a vampire!  
  
“You look pretty muscular to me,” he grinned, putting a hand on Dean’s bicep. “But I could give you something else to sign up for.”  
  
Castiel lunged at the man with the loudest hiss he could muster. He knew his fur was standing on end and his back hunched in position to attack him.  
  
The guy stepped back, his eyes going wide as he looked down at him.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at the man, pulling his arm back.  
  
Impala snorted loudly.  
  
“Guess I’ll pass then,” Dean said tightly, picking Castiel up and closing the stall door. He gave the guy a wave as they walked away. He didn’t say anything, but he headed straight back to their room.  
  
Safe and alone, Castiel’s hackles lowered as he paced the floor.  
  
Dean knelt, removing the stupid leash. He petted the top of his head, behind his ear and under his chin. “You’re a pretty good wingman.”  
  
Wingman? Memory of his wings flashed through his mind. I am a man. With wings! But that wasn’t what he meant. His hopes dashed as quick as they had risen. He had no idea what ‘wingman’ meant, but Dean was safe and happy. Castiel meowed softly and jumped onto his bed.  
  
  
********************************************************  
  
  
It was a long night. Dean had started puking as soon as the tide in open water had turned rougher. He hated ships. And boats. And the ocean. And his stupid, weak stomach.  
  
The only time he felt relief was when he lay completely still on his side with the warm heat of the cat tight against his stomach. At least Sam had brought him a bucket so he could quit sticking his head out his cabin window to puke. He was sure the people with windows below his were thankful too.  
  
Bobby kept him hydrated with peppermint water and peppermint tea. By noon, the puking seemed only an exercise to strengthen his muscles.  
  
By dinner, he was weak as a kitten and whimpered when Sam took Thursday to use the bathroom. Any time the cat was away from his stomach, the heaving began again.  
  
By evening, Thursday seemed as wiped out as he was. The pair stayed as still as possible in his bed.  
  
It wasn’t until the ship moored, that he could move.  
  
Bobby took Thursday, and Sam helped him stay upright as they left the ship. As they surfaced from the deck, he got his first glimpse of Purgatory. The shores were rocky, with an outline of a town beyond the busy dock. He could see the horses in holding pens, and the crew pulling out the cargo to stack further down the dock. There were people leaving the ship with bags over their shoulders and a few wagons sat empty, awaiting their cargo.  
  
“Welcome ta Stockville,” Bobby said quietly.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos! And many, many thanks for all the amazing comments on this fic! I LOVE hearing your thoughts on what is happening!  
> Have a wonderful weekend <3


	9. Harvelle’s Roadhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys take their first steps into Purgatory. Some new friends will change their group quite a bit!

Chapter 9: Harvelle’s Roadhouse  
  
  
  
  
Castiel did all he could to keep Dean awake for the thankfully short ride to Bobby’s friend’s restaurant. It was located just two blocks over from the main goings-on in the center of the town of Stockville.  
  
The general smell of the air in Purgatory had his fur standing on edge. Monsters vastly outnumbered them here. Everyone had a strange smell to them. Demons smelled like sulfur. Shapeshifters had a curious smell of lemon, sandalwood, and frankincense. Vampires smelled of blood and decay. Some more than others. Werewolves smelled like foul dogs. One man that passed them smelled tartly of black licorice. He wasn’t sure what that man was. A Leviathan? Witches smelled of a variety of smells, but mostly herbal.  
  
The town was loud and raucous. There was a general unease amongst the people.  
  
Harvelle’s Roadhouse was the restaurant and bar that Bobby’s friend owned. They tied the horses outside. Dean didn’t even need to ask. Castiel waited with the horses to be sure they were safe. Since he was just a cat. It wasn’t like he warranted introductions to their friends. It rubbed him the wrong way, like most things did since Gabriel flung him to Lawrence.  
  
  
He stayed curled between the bedroll and the back of the saddle on Impala as the three went inside. He watched the street with suspicion and a sharp eye. Before this adventure, he had no idea Purgatory even had towns. He thought it was a vast wasteland of monsters roaming around in the wild. But this town had none of the feel of the towns in Lawrence. There was a lawless hostility to the very air.  
  
Several passers-by took notice of the three horses. Some slowed their steps, looking at them. Everyone seemed to be on foot here. He had seen a few wagons with horses pulling goods, but other than those, the streets only held people walking.   
  
He frowned in thought. These creatures all looked like people. It was disturbing. He worried that Dean, Sam, and even Bobby were unprepared to be here. How would they know who their enemies were?  
  
One of the men who had looked at the horses with some interest, came back with another man. They both stunk of foul dog. They leaned against the side of the Roadhouse, eyeing the horses.  
  
When his eyes met with one of the men’s, he could see a yellow ring in the flare around his pupils. He hissed. He knew his body puffed up and he let the growl in his chest grow louder.  
  
Impala snorted, stomping her foot. Challenger was striking his front hoof and started pulling at the tie on the rail.   
  
He was no match for two werewolves.  
  
He ran inside the bar, weaving between the many customers. He heard Sam and Bobby laughing and headed further into the crowd, finally seeing all three of them.  
  
Before he could reach them, a woman picked him up by the scruff of the neck, staring at him. She stunk like smoke, beer, and sulfur. “What do we have here?”  
  
Castiel hissed at her, clawing her arm. The woman hissed back at him, glaring.  
  
“Put him down. Now.”  
  
Castiel was relieved when he heard Dean’s steady, deep voice.  
  
The woman tossed him to the floor.  
  
He landed hard, on all four paws, running as fast as he could to Dean, winding behind his leg.  
  
“That flea bag yours?” The woman glared, licking the claw marks on her arm lewdly.  
  
“He is,” Dean snapped, scooping Castiel up in his arm, still glaring at the demon.  
  
She said something else, but Dean turned to look at him, turning away from her. “You okay?”  
  
Castiel shook his head yes.  
  
Dean narrowed his gaze. “Is something wrong?”  
  
Castiel nodded yes emphatically.  
  
Dean only glanced around slightly, before giving him a worried look. “Are the horses okay?”  
  
Castiel shook his head no.  
  
“Shit.” He tucked Castiel under his arm more firmly. “Sam, Bobby. Problem with the horses!”  
  
Sam and Bobby grabbed their bags, following him outside and onto the porch.  
  
One of the werewolves was approaching the horses, all three of the horses were pulling at their leads, shying away from him.   
  
Challenger lunged, biting at one of them, getting a snarl in return, making him rear, pulling hard at his tie.  
  
Castiel was slightly shocked when Dean dumped him to the ground, pulling a knife out. In a few quick strides, he was behind the man, holding the knife to his throat.  
  
“That’s close enough.”  
  
The man held both hands up, stopping. He flinched from the knife, pressing his head back so the silver blade did not touch his skin.  
  
Dean grabbed him by the shirt, shoving him away from the horses.   
  
“I was jus lookin’!”  
  
“Yeah? Suck your teeth back in and look from across the street,” Dean scowled menacingly, still holding the knife.  
  
The man and the one with him walked away, only glancing back once.  
  
“Let’s get these horses to my place,” a woman said, waving them to follow her.  
  
Dean sighed, putting his knife away. He looked down at Castiel, giving him a smirking smile with a wink.  
  
Castiel was impressed. Dean might be tougher than he thought.  
  
“Thanks, Ellen,” Bobby smiled, giving her a nod.   
  
She grinned back, tucking some hair behind her ear. She led the way, walking next to Bobby while the others followed.   
  
Sam had to pull Challenger away from others several times as they walked slowly around the restaurant. Sam chided him for his rudeness, but Castiel thought the horse was in the rights for once.   
  
They went around the back of the restaurant and followed a short lane that led to a barn. A man with an odd haircut met them at the door. “Ellen,” he said in greeting, eyes roving over the three men, the horses, and even him. Castiel looked away, not wanting him to see that he might not be just a cat. He did not know these people.  
  
“We got some guests for a while,” Ellen said, sliding the door the rest of the way open.  
  
“Bobby! Good to see you, man!”  
  
“Ash. How ya been?” Bobby answered, clasping forearms with him.  
  
“I been better. And I been worse.” He nodded.  
  
Castiel was trying to avert his eyes, but he was slightly fascinated with the man’s hair. It was short in the front but very long in the back. He had never seen such a style.  
  
“Ash,” Ellen said, interrupting Castiel’s staring, “this is Dean and Sam Winchester. John’s boys.”  
  
Ash nodded, shaking hands with them. Castiel noted how Dean looked at the sigils on Ash’s arm as Ash looked at his. Sam did the same. They did not touch thumbs to a sigil, so they had no common sigil to share, therefore they only shook hands. It was a strange custom that nephilim had never done.  
  
“We’re keeping their horses for them while they’re here,” Ellen explained.  
  
Ash nodded, stepping back. “Welcome aboard.”  
  
They filed into the small stable. There were three stalls empty. Three other stalls held curious horses. They poked their heads out of their stalls, sniffing the air.  
  
They spent a good hour settling the horses. They told Ash what they ate and their turn-out habits. Sam had to admit all Challenger’s bad barn habits. They suggested he only turn him out with Impala.   
  
As they took their bags, preparing to leave the stable, Ash pointed at him. “You can leave the cat here too. Always need good watch cats.”  
  
Dean grinned down at him and patted his chest. Castiel could feel that familiar warm glow inside him. He jumped up, Dean nudging him up to his shoulder. “He stays with me.”  
  
Ash nodded. He seemed a good man. He listened when Dean talked about Impala. He checked her legs and hooves and seemed to have a good hand. Impala and the other horses liked him too. And Dean seemed more relaxed leaving her in his care than he had with all the others. But Ash was observant. Castiel noticed him looking at him several times. He avoided him but he had the feeling he suspected something. And he didn’t know Ash well enough to know what he would do with such information.  
  
They left the stable, going to the next building over, where Ellen’s home was.  
  
“Jo will be so excited to see you, Bobby. She still talks about the time you brought her candy and that doll. She still has it.”  
  
“Aw. That was a long time ago. I did bring her a bag of peppermints, or part of a bag. I bet she’s grown so much. It’s been two years since I been here.”  
  
“Two?” Dean whispered to Sam.  
  
Sam shrugged, looking just as surprised.  
  
“What was he doing in Purgatory two years ago?” Dean wondered aloud.  
  
“Visiting Ellen?” Sam grinned, wiggling an eyebrow.  
  
Dean frowned. “Maybe.”  
  
They followed Ellen into her house. Bars blocked the windows and there were sigils and devil’s traps painted on the floor as they walked inside. It was smaller than Castiel had expected. This Ellen ran a restaurant. He had assumed she would be rather wealthy. But judging by the state of affairs, she was scraping by.  
  
A blonde girl came out of another room. She froze in the doorway. “Bobby?”  
  
“Hey, kid,” Bobby grinned.  
  
She ran to him, hugging him tightly. Castiel had seen Bobby grin like that when he saw Dean and Sam when they had first arrived. He must be very close with Ellen and Jo.  
  
She backed up, looking at him with teary eyes. “Are you here to stay? Are you taking us with you?”  
  
Bobby’s smile saddened. “Jo, this is Dean and Sam. John Winchester’s boys. John was kidnapped by some demons and we’re here to find him.”  
  
Her high hopes dashed; she sagged a bit. “Hi.” She clasped hands with them, studying their sigils as they studied hers. “Nice to meet you. Sorry to hear about your dad.”  
  
Dean and Sam nodded, but all Jo’s attention was suddenly on Castiel.  
  
“Who’s this?” She asked, stepping closer to Dean, and staring at Castiel as if she saw more than just a cat.  
  
Castiel and Dean exchanged a look.  
  
“My cat,” Dean said, only slightly unsure of his words.  
  
Jo gave Castiel a searching look. “That’s no cat. It’s a...are you a familiar?”  
  
Castiel slunk back on Dean’s shoulder slightly. He was not sure whether to trust these people.  
  
“He’s not a familiar,” Dean answered.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you...were you human?”  
  
Castiel felt as if sharing with her might break what he had with these people. What if they didn’t like him when they found out who he was? He wanted to ask her if she was a witch. Could she help him?  
  
“He’s not a shapeshifter,” Dean added, pulling Castiel from his shoulders, into his arms, looking at him again. “He’s really smart. And he’s protected us a couple times on our way here.”  
  
She nodded, still studying him. “We should take him to my girlfriend’s. She’ll know what he is.”  
  
“You got a girlfriend?” Bobby asked.  
  
Jo grinned, her face lighting up as she turned to Bobby. “Yeah. It’s pretty serious, actually. She’s a witch.”  
  
Bobby nodded.  
  
“You’re dating a witch?” Dean asked, sounding a little surprised.  
  
Jo gave him a steady look. “I am. The smartest, most badass witch in Purgatory.”  
  
Ellen nodded. “I gotta say, she’s been invaluable to the bar. We sent for her a year ago when things were bad. Jo took a liking to her immediately. She’s been coming here a week every month since.”  
  
“That does sound serious,” Bobby nodded, giving Jo a sad smile.  
  
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Jo grinned, hugging Bobby again. “I gotta grow up, Bobby.”  
  
“I know,” he said quietly, hugging her back. “You gotta be so damn fast at it though?”  
  
She pulled back with a giggle. “We should go see her. Take the cat to meet her.”  
  
“She lives about two hours from here by horse. Four, on foot,” Ellen added.  
  
“Well, we got plans,” Bobby started.  
  
“No,” Dean interjected, looking down at Castiel. “I think we should see if Jo’s girlfriend can help us. It seems like the minute my dad went missing, this cat showed up. He hasn’t left our side in hundreds of miles.” He looked back at the group. “If she can answer some questions, it would be good.”  
  
Bobby nodded. “Alright then.”  
  
Castiel had a worried, sinking feeling in his stomach. He had spent over two weeks as their cat. He had grown quite used to, and surprisingly fond of, the closeness they shared. But he really did have other things to do. A life outside of this adventure he had gotten himself into.  
  
He needed to speak to Gabriel. If he were nephilim again, he might be able to fly! Hope bubbled up strong again. Could this witch could help him?  
  
He rubbed his head into Dean’s chest.  
  
“Should we go see the witch?” Dean asked, looking at him again.  
  
Castiel nodded yes.  
  
Dean grinned. “The witch it is then.”  
  
“Whoever, or whatever he is,” Sam added, “he almost died for us. He took on a werewolf back in Lawrence.”  
  
Jo nodded. “She’ll be able to help.” She leaned a hip against the table, looking at all of them. “So...what happened to John?”  
  
They moved to the small table, sitting around it to eat and talk.  
  
Castiel busied himself by looking around the house. It was small, but clean. He sat on the windowsill, listening as the humans talked and made their plans. Maybe Dean would remember how he had been loyal to all of them if the witch could help him. He had always been quiet, reserved, and stoic. But to not have a voice was really getting frustrating.  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
Dean liked Ellen. And Jo. Ellen was one tough broad. She ran that Roadhouse with authority. He had no idea how a human had made it so long, running a bar with monsters constantly there. She must not mind them too much. Her own daughter was dating a witch.  
  
Their local witch at home, Missouri, had never liked him as much as she liked Sam. He had been a bit of a pain in the ass when they had first moved to Lebanon. His rise to ‘normal life’ had been stormy. Missouri had rocked their world at first.   
  
Dean had spent plenty of time searching out ingredients for her stocks, performing strange chores, and dusting her shelves of too many tiny bottles as punishment for running his mouth, or rolling his eyes, or doing - even ‘thinking’ -something ‘disrespectful’. He respected Missouri and knew deep down that she loved him. But witches just weren’t his cup of tea.  
  
He was leery of subjecting Thursday to a witch. Who knew what she would do to him? But he wanted some answers.  
  
On a good note, he was totally on board with Bobby liking Ellen. She was good people. But from what he could see, she needed outta here. Jo too.  
  
They spent the entire evening catching Ellen up on their dad and where they were going.  
  
“I never heard of such a thing as a demon knife,” she frowned. “You believe this Samuel guy?”  
  
“Yeah,” Bobby grumbled. “It would be a good weapon to have. Especially going into a place with Azazel at the head.”  
  
Ellen nodded.  
  
“I’ve heard of it,” Jo said quietly. Even her mom seemed surprised.  
  
“You have?” Sam asked.  
  
“Yeah. Few years ago, there was a group of demons at the bar talking about trying to get it.”  
  
“Probably right after it got here,” Dean reasoned.  
  
Bobby and Sam nodded agreement.  
  
“Charlie might know more about that too,” Jo said confidently.  
  
“Who’s Charlie?” Dean asked.  
  
“My girlfriend. She’s...well connected. She hears a lot.”  
  
“Sounds like we definitely need to meet her,” Dean sighed. “I’m headed to bed. I’m so wiped out from that damn ship.”  
  
Everyone said goodnight and Thursday followed him into Jo’s bedroom. He grinned at her bed. First one to the bedroom got the bed, right? Apparently Thursday agreed. He jumped up there, circling around the bottom to lay down.  
  
Dean pulled his clothes off. He was bone-tired from all the puking and hardly eating. His dinner sat heavy, making him feel even more tired, but in a much better way.  
  
Down to his shorts, he got under the covers and turned onto his side, lifting his hand for the cat to curl up by his chest. He petted his soft, silky fur. “I hope this witch can help me talk to you better. I know you have more to say than what you can now.”  
  
The cat did not agree or disagree.  
  
He let the weariness of the trip take him to sleep.  
  
  
*******************************************  
  
  
They had been walking for four hours. Dean had decided Jo was one of the best chicks he had ever met. Her humor was wicked funny. She was tough. And she made him laugh.  
  
The fact that he was traveling with her made him slightly nervous though. While he thought Ellen was cool, she kinda scared the shit out of him. She was fiercely protective of her daughter. And who could blame her. He couldn’t imagine trying to raise a kid in a place like this. There were hardly any humans here. Not that he could tell by looking.  
  
Their walk had been uneventful. They had passed a few travelers on the road. And Dean had thought he heard things in the woods about two miles back, but nothing messed with them.  
  
He knew the second Jo saw Charlie. Her face lit up and she ran the short distance to the little house. A petite red-head stood on her porch. She had just waved goodbye to a salesman with a cart.  
  
She turned, hearing Jo coming. She ran off the porch, catching Jo in her arms to hug and kiss her.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, turning to look at the rest of the group as they neared her.  
  
“This is Bobby. I’ve told you about him before.” Jo beamed a grin and Bobby shook Charlie’s hand.  
  
Charlie held his hand, glancing over his arm. “You’re a hunter. Or were. It’s so nice to meet you!”  
  
“You too, Jo had plenty of good things ta say ‘bout you.”  
  
“Aw!” She winked at Jo, turning back to him and Sam.  
  
“This is Sam and Dean Winchester,” Jo started to introduce.  
  
Charlie stepped up to him quickly. “Winchester?” She looked at his sigils. “John Winchester. I thought so.” She shook Sam’s hand next with the same big grin. “Are you here to rescue him?”  
  
“You know about that?” Jo asked, frowning in question.  
  
Charlie nodded; her dark red hair made her pale skin stand out starkly. “I heard about the snatch those demon bastards pulled.”  
  
“Do you know where he is?” Dean asked. It was the first time anyone had any hope of information. His nerves thrummed with worry.  
  
“No. I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say Elizabethville. I heard some rumors and it turns out the creeps passed right through here. If I had known, I would have stopped them. Then, again last week, one of my regular customers said demons had taken John Winchester. The same ones I had seen.”  
  
“Are you sure about Elizabethville?” Dean asked. “What makes you think that?”  
  
She shrugged. “Elizabethville, probably. That’s where Azazel usually stays.” Her train of thought completely interrupted by the sight of the cat. Her eyes fixed on him with shock.  
  
She glanced around at all of them. “We should go inside.”  
  
Dean glanced around the woods. There was no one else around that he could see. But going inside seemed like a good idea. Just the thought of a monster lurking or listening in on them, made him nervous.  
  
They all went inside quietly. Everyone had seen Charlie’s immediate reaction to the cat.  
  
Dean was a little surprised with himself at how protective he felt. She was a witch. And she knew something. He just wasn’t sure he was ready for what she had to say.  
  
They gathered in Charlie’s living room, everyone sitting down on a chair or couch. Dean took one of the chairs, Thursday on his lap, watching Charlie with worry. He could feel the little cat’s body vibrating with nerves.  
  
Dean put a calming hand on him.  
  
Charlie dropped all pretense of caring about anything else. She stared at the cat with wide eyes, sitting on the floor in front of him.  
  
“How did you come by this cat?”  
  
Dean swallowed, petting Thursday’s shoulder nervously. “He just kinda showed up in the stables at our house. He seemed to want to come with us.”  
  
She nodded her head. “I bet.”  
  
“How did this happen?” She asked the cat.  
  
No answer.  
  
“Can you talk?” Charlie asked.  
  
Thursday shook his head no.  
  
“Okay...did a sprite do this to you?”  
  
No. But Dean noticed how that seemed to make the cat excited.  
  
“Someone did this to you, though.”  
  
Thursday nodded his head yes.  
  
“A witch?” She asked.  
  
Yes.  
  
Charlie thought, tapping on her chin. She stood up pacing away. “So, the cat is a sprite. And a witch cast a spell on him.”  
  
Dean knew he must look as shocked as Sam and Bobby. The world went silent for a minute as he and the cat stared at each other. Chills ran up his spine.  
  
A sprite.  
  
“A sprite?” Thursday nodded. Nothing made any sense. He had no idea what to do with that information.   
  
A sprite!   
  
All his childhood memories of sprite tales came back to him. They ignored the humans and monsters. They thought they were better than the rest. Some of them were tricksters. Some were mean. Some were totally self-absorbed. A sprite. On his freakin’ lap!   
  
“So, I can think of a few ways he like got this,” Charlie went on, seeming more curious than surprised. “Either he was snooping through a witch’s books, he used this as a disguise, or a witch cursed him. So, you said he has protected you and stayed with you because he wants to...I’m going to have to change him back to figure out if he’s here on a good deed or a foul deed.”  
  
The cat stood up, meowing.  
  
“Sounds like a good idea,” Bobby said quietly. “You sure it’s a sprite? People say they’ve seen ‘em, but I thought no one has seen a sprite in...hundreds of years. I mean, Rufus said he saw that one...but...”  
  
“That’s not true,” Charlie shook her head. “There’s been...well, let’s see who we’re dealing with here, before I say any more.”  
  
“You can...turn him back into a sprite?” Dean asked, trying not to out-right squirm at the foreigner sitting on his lap.  
  
“Yeah. At least, I’m like...83% sure.” She gave him a sweet, confident grin.  
  
“Told ya she’s awesome,” Jo smiled.  
  
Yeah...friggin’ awesome. Pretty soon the black bit of fur and bone in his lap was going to be a man. He fought the urge to shove the cat off his lap.  
  
Charlie went to the other side of her large living room, pulling a cauldron off a shelf. She sat it on the table and rested her hands on the edge of it. “Do you want me to turn you back?”  
  
The cat gave Dean one last glance, then jumped down and joined her at the table. He nodded his head yes.  
  
Dean felt extremely conflicted about this. He couldn’t figure out what their smart little companion had been, but he felt like he was losing a friend. If this turned into a freakin’ sprite...what the hell did that mean? Was it here just getting into mischief? Was it here to start problems?  
  
Sam was staring at the cat with intensity. “I wonder...”  
  
“You wonder what?” Dean snapped.   
  
Sam shot him a frown. “I was just going to say, if he’s a sprite, maybe he’s here to help find Dad.”  
  
“What would Dad have to do with a sprite?” Dean snapped again.  
  
“Quit bitin’ Sam’s head off,” Bobby barked. “None of us woulda ever guessed he was a sprite.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said irritably, looking at the cat sitting on the table, “but you didn’t sleep with him.”  
  
“Hey,” Bobby grinned, “You knew damn well he was too smart to be just a cat. You knew he was something more. Let’s just...see what happens.”  
  
He sat back in the chair, watching. He regretted all the petting. All the sleeping cuddled up to it. Holding it. Shit, he had kissed it on the head! A friggin’ sprite! Evil, mischievous, arrogant bastards!  
  
  
************************************  
  
  
Castiel jumped onto the table with more hope and excitement than he had ever felt in his life. “So...you went all the way to Lawrence,” Charlie bit her lip. “Are you Gabriel?”  
  
Gabriel! It was exciting that someone else knew Gabriel’s name! This little witch just might be able to fix him! He shook his head no.  
  
“Are you Michael?   
  
Oh, this WAS a clever witch! He shook his head no, barely able to contain his excitement.  
  
“Are you a Mage?” She asked, studying him with a friendly eye.  
  
Yes! Yes! He stood up, his tail flicking back and forth with excitement.  
  
“Sunday?”  
  
No!  
  
“Right. Mage of Sunday is Michael. Gabriel is Mage of Monday and you said you aren’t him.” She put several ingredients into the cauldron. “Tuesday?”  
  
No!  
  
“Thursday,” Dean said in a bit of wonder.  
  
Castiel nodded yes to him, he turned to Charlie, nodding yes again.  
  
“Mage of Thursday?” Charlie confirmed.  
  
YES!  
  
“Hm. Last I heard, Kassiel had died. He was the old Mage of Thursday. That means you must be Castiel.”  
  
Castiel’s mouth dropped open a bit.  
  
He meowed loudly, nodding yes.  
  
“Well, hello, Castiel. It’s nice to meet you.” She held a hand out and he gave her his paw. She shook it with a gentle shake.  
  
“Mage of Thursday?” Dean got up, pacing the room. Castiel could tell that Dean was extremely uncomfortable with the knowledge that he was a sprite. “Freakin’ Thursday. What sprite is that?” He ran his hand through his hair roughly. “The freakin’ crier!”  
  
“Harbinger,” Sam said quietly, looking at Castiel like he just figured out who he was. “He’s the guy that was at the door the night Dad was kidnapped.”  
  
Sam and Dean both stood a bit more defensively. “Maybe you should hold off on turning him back,” Dean said quietly. His green eyes were on him as if he was an enemy. Worse yet, a stranger. As if they did not know each other!  
  
Castiel meowed a tiny cry.  
  
“But we need information,” Sam argued.  
  
Charlie nodded.  
  
“But a freakin’ mage? He’s like the top dog of all the Thursday sprites! What if we can’t hold him? You got some sprite weapons around I never heard of?” Dean argued back with the pair.  
  
Charlie shrugged. “Apparently I can turn him into a cat.”  
  
“Why isn’t this freaking you out?” Dean snapped.  
  
“I think you better watch your tone,” Jo said in a cold voice. It was enough to snap Dean into milder behavior.   
  
“How are you so current on sprite business?” Bobby asked suspiciously.  
  
“I...can’t really talk about that.” She forced a wide grin, her eyes sliding over to Castiel. She did not want to give anything away; in case he was here to cause harm.  
  
He dropped his head slightly.   
  
“When he comes out of this spell, he’s going to be weak as a kitten. No pun intended,” Charlie assured them.  
  
She focused her attention back on him. “Let’s figure out how you got this way first.”  
  
Castiel worried that every answer could be the wrong one. But Charlie at least seemed knowledgeable about nephilim, even if she still called them sprites.  
  
“Did a witch cast this spell on you?” She asked.  
  
No.  
  
“Were you snooping through a witch’s spellbook?”  
  
Yes.  
  
She grinned slightly. She looked at the others. “Some witches leave spells on their books. It’s to keep people from stealing their books and spells. This is a curiosity spell. He must have tried to use the book without the witch being there.”  
  
“Missouri has been away. She was in southern Lawrence at the time Dad went missing. So, if he’s the guy I think he is, it fits,” Sam nodded.  
  
“Missouri Mosley?” Charlie grinned.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Do you know of her?”  
  
“Sure! We’ve met. She’s great!” Charlie turned back to her cabinets of bottles. She picked several up, putting them by the cauldron. “I’m going to need some human blood. Any donors?”  
  
“You do it,” Sam grinned, slapping Dean on the back. “He’s your bestie.”  
  
“Stop saying that,” Dean growled. He looked at Charlie with a shrug. “Whatever.”  
  
They all watched as Charlie pulled out a thick, leather bound book and consulted a spell. She got several more herbs from her stocks and a cup of milk.  
  
Castiel watched, seeing some of the ingredients were the same as he had used when doing the spell. “How long exactly have you been this way?”  
  
Castiel thought back. Well, this was day...19. He meowed.  
  
“Oh, right,” she grinned. “Um, two weeks? More? 15 days?” She kept asking until Castiel meowed and nodded yes at 19.  
  
Charlie blew out a big breath. “That’s a long time to be stuck in a curiosity spell. They’re meant to be like a punishment. But they can become permanent. But...we should be fine. You just might have some...after-effects.”  
  
Castiel swallowed. Was he going to lose his grace? Would he be weaker? If he lost his powers, he would lose his rank.   
  
She poured the cup of milk in, stirring the little mess in the pot. “And that’s for humans. Witches. But I heard of a werewolf that once got stuck as a cat like this.” She stopped stirring, glancing at the others, making a face. “He did NOT like being a cat.” She went back to stirring. “Yet it worked on him. But a sprite?” She blew out a breath, staring into her cauldron. “I’m not making any promises.”  
  
Castiel wished he had more time to weigh the consequences. Should he? Shouldn’t he? He really had no choice. He had to become a sprite again.  
  
“Time for blood.” She cut her own hand, letting 19 drops drip into the cauldron. She wiped her hand off, letting Jo bandage her. “Dean?”  
  
Dean pulled up his sleeve. He looked at Castiel with a tight mouth. It made Castiel’s heart drop a bit. He did not want Dean to be angry. Dean cut himself, letting blood run into a small bowl. Charlie then put 19 drops in. Jo handed him a bandage.  
  
“You next, Mage of Thursday,” Charlie said politely.  
  
He held up a paw, flinching only slightly at the burning cut. Jo held a bandage to his cut until the bleeding stopped.  
  
“Hair from the curious cat.” She ran her hand down Castiel’s back, dropping 19 hairs into the pot. She topped the mess off with a bit of catnip and looked at Castiel. “You might want to move to the chair.”  
  
Castiel’s heart raced. This could be it! He could be himself again! He jumped from the table to one of the chairs, watching her carefully. She lit a long match and dropped it in the pot.  
  
The little pile erupted in flames.  
  
Castiel gasped. His body jolted, heaving, and swelling with a burning stretch. A rush of hot pin pricks ran all over his body. He howled as things inside his body pulled and swelled. The pain was intense. His face pulled and every bone in his body grew like a shard of steel. All he could hear was his own scream of pain.  
  
He panted, heaving, his chest working hard to bring him air. He had heard himself scream. He had his voice back! His hands! His legs! Only two of them now! He looked up at Charlie. “Thank you,” he croaked broken and painful.   
  
Another surge hit him, his entire body thrumming with burning pain until all he saw was white.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating again on Wednesday!


	10. A Tale of Two Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finally gets to speak! And he’s greeted with a nice helping of Winchester charm.

Chapter 10: A Tale of Two Tongues  
  
  
  
Dean sat next to the bed in Charlie’s guest room. Castiel. Mage of Thursday. The crier. Harbinger of news. He thought about the old nursery rhyme he and Sam used to say.  
  
‘Gather your children, gather them now,  
Sprites will steal them; I’ll tell you how.  
Lock your doors, douse your lights,  
Seven Sprites rule the nights.  
Warlock’s sword rules the most,  
Sunday’s sprite will always boast.  
Monday’s Trickster is friend and foe,  
He’ll mince your words ‘til you don’t know.  
You could be cured by Healer’s hand,  
If Tuesday’s sprite gave a damn.  
Cinder, Cinder, sparks and flame,  
Wednesday’s sprite burns all the same.  
Thursday’s sprite will make you cry,  
Harbinger brings news but won’t say why.  
Friday’s sprite is full of fun,  
But Pip is here to help no one.  
Flicker will be here and gone,  
Saturday’s sprite strikes at predawn.  
Seven sprites to rule and tease,  
Trick and burn and bring you grief.’  
  
It seemed ridiculous that these seven magical creatures he had heard about when he was little, were real. And one was laying right in front of him. Harbinger. Bringer of bad tidings and grief. They were all known for their dangerous antics to humans before The War of Peoples and the Sunken Ties separated them. Even still, they teach children to fear them at night.  
  
Warlock started fights, Trickster could fool you into trouble, Cinder started fires, Harbinger would tell you tragic news, Pip liked to play but will lead you astray, and Flicker was quick as lightning. They were all troublemakers.   
  
Thieves, liars, tricksters. They lured children away or into trouble.  
  
And here he was, sitting next to one of them. Thursday. Why had it never occurred to him? Fucking sprites. Everyone knew they were too busy doing nothing to bother with men, if you believed in them at all. So why was he here?  
  
His hair was dark brown. So dark it was almost black. Like the cat he had been. And he had only caught a wild, brief glimpse of his eyes, but he knew they were the same striking blue as the cat’s. His hair was a mess. He looked pale and smooth from the spell. The only hair on his body was on his head and his eyebrows. Everything else was as smooth as day-old skin. He knew, because he watched him turn into a human. And there he was, passed out in the chair, naked. They had carried him into the bed and now they were just waiting for him to wake up. He was breathing, but he had not moved so much as a finger since the spell.  
  
He sighed heavily, getting up and heading into the living room with the rest of the crew.   
  
“Anything yet?” Bobby asked.  
  
Dean shook his head no. “Out like a doused flame.”  
  
Bobby sighed. “How long are we gonna wait?”  
  
Dean sat at the table. “Charlie. Let’s talk.”  
  
She pulled herself onto the counter, sitting cross-legged. She gave him an expectant look.   
  
“I think we’re gonna have to wake him up.” Dean was not surprised by the look of doubt on Charlie’s face. “I can’t wait for days. This trip is taking too long already. Who knows if my dad is even alive? With his mouth...and demons’ short tempers...”  
  
“Well, let’s find out! Do you have anything of his?” She sprung back onto her feet, holding a hand out.  
  
“You can do that?” Dean mumbled, patting his hands down his own body, trying to think of anything he carried that was his dad’s. “Of course you can. I, uh, I have his knife that he gave me!” He pulled out the silver dagger so quickly that Charlie yelped, retracting her hand quickly.   
  
“Sorry,” Dean blushed slightly at his sloppiness.  
  
Charlie grinned, reaching for the knife again. “Go get Sam and I’ll get what I need. It’s a simple spell.”  
  
Dean nodded; he was glad to think about something other than the stone man in the guest room that hadn’t moved since yesterday.  
  
He jogged outside where Sam was picking fresh lavender from Charlie’s garden. “Sam! Come on! Charlie’s gonna do a search spell to see if Dad’s alive.”  
  
Sam joined him, laying the lavender pickings on Charlie’s table. They watched as she added a few powders into the pot and lit the mixture on fire. She waved the stench and smoke away, lifting a wire out of the pot with a stone hanging from it. She said something witchy, touching their dad’s knife to the stone.  
  
The stone glowed red, then began pulsing. She looked up at them with a grin. “He’s alive. The pulsing shows his heartbeat. It’s strong and steady.”  
  
Dean and Sam both sighed in relief, dropping their heads.  
  
She moved the stone to her sink, rinsing it and the knife off. “They probably just have him in a cell somewhere in Azazel’s camp.”  
  
Dean nodded, standing up straighter with the knowledge that their quest to save their father was not in vain. He clapped Sam on the back.  
  
Sam, more choked up than Dean had expected, hugged him. “He’s alive, Dean.”  
  
“We’re gonna save him, Sammy. He’s tough. He’ll hang in there.”  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Dean let Sam go, turning to the deep, unfamiliar voice behind him. Standing in the doorway to the guest room was the cat. Or...the sprite. His eyes were wide and shockingly blue. His hair was stuck up in a crazy mussed pile. His skin looked smooth as satin and pale. Not sickly pale, but fresh, clean, new. He was still naked, Dean suspected, with the blanket from the bed wrapped around him. He was muscular, but looked weak, as if a strong breeze could knock him over.  
  
The man swallowed, wincing at his throat. “Dean -” He coughed, wincing again.  
  
“Castiel?” Charlie said in a hushed voice, “I mean, Mage of Thursday,” she bowed her head. “I’ll make you some honey and lemon tea!” She jumped into action.  
  
Dean poured him a glass of water, wondering if he was supposed to treat this sprite differently. Like when commoners met his father, they usually bowed and addressed him as Sheriff Winchester. Not that his dad required such actions, people just did it out of respect and tradition. But this man was a stranger. A sprite. Yet, he was the cat he had carried with him for close to three weeks now. He knew him. But he didn’t. Every bit of how to interact with him was a mass of confusion in his head. He was gonna need to pick an action and go with it.   
  
“Here,” Dean handed him the cup of water. “And you might wanna get dressed.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam whacked his arm. “He’s one of The Seven! Mage of Thursday.”  
  
Dean looked back, meeting the most intense eyes he had ever seen. There was an inhuman glow that radiated through the blue. His mouth pressed together with his chin tipped down slightly. It was an odd look of shy strength.  
  
“He’s the same dude that’s been with us for weeks.” Dean swallowed, wanting to shy away from the steady, slightly glowing gaze the man gave him, but he fought the urge, staring right back.  
  
He reached for the cup, grasping it with a weak, shaky grip.  
  
“I have clothes for him,” Charlie piped in. “Jo, would you check the wardrobe in my room and give him something to wear?”  
  
“Sure,” Jo answered in a breathless voice, backing up two steps, looking like she was unsure if she should bow. She did an awkward sort of bob and went to Charlie’s bedroom.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. Great. Everything was gonna be uncomfortable until everyone got over their shock and awe.  
  
Jo came out of the room with a small pile of clothes. She looked apprehensive about even handing them to the sprite.  
  
Dean took them and nudged Thursday to back into the room. He sat the pile of clothes on the bed. “Breaches, shirt, socks. No boots.” He looked at the man’s feet. “We’ll have to get you some boots.” He couldn’t stop himself from running his eyes up his body. He was just a bit shorter than him.  
  
Their eyes met again. Castiel lowered his chin slightly. It was something he had often done as a cat. For a split second, that was what Dean saw. The sprite tilted his head ever so slightly and opened his mouth to say something.  
  
“We’ll be waiting right out here. We have a lot to talk about,” Dean muttered, walking out of the room, pulling the door shut. He sat in one of the chairs, stewing inside. He felt so out of sorts. He hated that.  
  
Mage of Thursday. One of the seven sprites. Castiel. A leader. He would be a leader of...well, he had no idea how sprites ran their country. It was all a mystery. Maybe there were only seven altogether. Maybe he was like a sheriff. Maybe he was bigger than that even. And Dean had petted him. Kissed his head. Shared his bed.  
  
“Fuck,” he muttered.  
  
“Dean,” Bobby said calmly, sitting next to him.   
  
Dean recognized the tone and the posture of how Bobby leaned toward him. Like he was patiently educating a difficult child. Rather than look at him, he didn’t move.  
  
Bobby sighed, pulling his hat off and tossed it onto the couch. “That ‘man’ in there, the one you’re ‘bossin’ around? He’s a freakin’ mage. He could be powerful. Ya might wanna -”  
  
“What?” Dean snapped, not the child he used to be when Uncle Bobby sat him down for talks. “Treat him differently? Like he’s a sprite and he’s better than me?”  
  
Bobby winced, shushing him. “Some mages are really powerful.”  
  
Dean sighed in frustration, glancing at the door. Charlie was standing in his way of the door with her hands on her hips, watching him.  
  
“Really powerful,” Charlie repeated.  
  
“You need ta watch yer tone. He might help us. He’s already helped us,” Bobby went on.  
  
Dean stared at the floor in front of him. “Sprites don’t give a shit what humans are doing. They don’t care if we live or die. Where were they during the three famines? Or the vampire uprising? They only ever used us for breeding, Bobby. Why do you think this is different?”  
  
“Because...maybe it just is. Maybe they’re a lot more like us than they used ta be. He may know something. Or will help us get yer dad back.”  
  
“Maybe,” Dean muttered.  
  
Everyone stepped away from Dean when the bedroom door opened, and the man walked into the room. Dressed, he looked even more human. His eyes had dulled to a more normal blue and he looked tired.  
  
Dean might have had a twinge of guilt as the man shyly looked at them. He inched his way into the room.  
  
“Your tea is ready,” Charlie grinned, sitting a cup on the table.  
  
“Thank you,” he said quietly, bowing his head to her slightly.  
  
She blushed a bit, stepping back.  
  
He walked over to the chair and sat at the table. He wasted no time sipping the hot tea. For several moments, he sat there with his eyes closed as if he were savoring the simple brew.  
  
Charlie and Jo sat at the table with him. Sam soon joined. Bobby too. With all the chairs taken, Dean walked closer, leaning against the counter.  
  
The sprite opened his eyes. He took a long drink and sat the cup down.  
  
“It is such a relief to finally be able to talk to all of you,” he said in his low, rumbly voice. Dean rubbed the goosebumps off his arms. “My name is Castiel, Mage of Thursday. I command the Legion of Thursday in Haven.”  
  
Legion? Shit. That sounded like a lot of fucking sprites.  
  
“In Haven, we call ourselves nephilim. But you all refer to us as sprites. I was sent here by Gabriel.”  
  
“Gabriel?” Charlie gasped, looking at Jo.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes. Gabriel. He was a main player. Everyone knew Michael and Gabriel were the most powerful sprites. Trickster and War. The others seemed to follow those two. At least, that was how the old stories went.  
  
“I have only been Mage of Thursday for a year. I was staying with Gabriel in Tree of Thrones to study my powers.”  
  
“Wait,” Dean interrupted, taking his tired gaze more easily this time, “You’re new? Like...you don’t know what you’re really doing kind of new?”  
  
“Dean,” Bobby growled.  
  
Castiel gave him a stern look. “I am more powerful than the last five generations of Thursday Mages.”  
  
“But...you’re just learning to use your powers?” Dean asked, incredulous.  
  
Castiel’s glare pierced into him, his eyes glowing again. Apparently he chose not to bother answering him, because his eyes dimmed as he looked at the others sitting at the table. “While under Gabriel’s tutelage, he sent me to Lawrence with a message for John Winchester.”  
  
Charlie and Jo leaned forward with anticipation. Bobby listened carefully. And Sam looked as bewildered with this as Dean felt.  
  
“He asked me to tell John Winchester that he was correct, and that Gabriel would fight by his side.”  
  
Charlie looked like she might cry with excitement. Jo nodded, also near tears. Bobby sat back with a look of surprise. Sam and Dean both blurted, “Fight who?”  
  
Castiel looked uncomfortable again. “I know only that message.”  
  
“Man. You really are just Harbinger. Sprite to bring news,” Dean laughed bitterly. He didn’t want to be mean to the guy. He just couldn’t seem to help himself. The entire group glared at him. “What?” Dean laughed. “Thursday’s sprite will make you cry, Harbinger delivers news, but won’t say why! It’s just like the old rhyme!”  
  
“We aren’t talking about nursery rhymes, Dean,” Charlie snapped. “You might not feel the threat of war down in Lawrence where it’s cozy and orderly with a bar and stores on every street, but here, in Purgatory, the demons are multiplying. Humans were so rare here, that they started harvesting their own. But they’re only interested in our body count to add to their numbers. What they really want is to destroy Lawrence as you know it.”  
  
Dean swallowed. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“War,” Jo backed up her girlfriend. “And there have been mass rumors that Gabriel and his people have been in touch with leaders across Purgatory, Freeland, and Lawrence. Your dad must be one of them.”  
  
“Why would Gabriel want to help us?” Sam asked. “Things have been separate for so long now.”  
  
Charlie leaned forward. “Word is, Michael is the one making the demons. Demons can’t make other demons. We don’t have anything like that here. So, when witches and humans caught on to what was happening, we clamored for help until Gabriel finally got word.”  
  
Castiel was blinking thoughtfully. He sipped his tea again. “When I met Michael, he seemed quite distracted and removed from Gabriel. I thought the two were at odds...but I cannot believe Michael would warrant such a thing. I do not even know if creating demons is possible.”  
  
“Why not?” Dean asked. “Isn’t that what Lucifer was in so much trouble for? Hating humans and making demons?”  
  
Castiel frowned. “Yes. And no. Knowing Michael what little I do I’d say this has more to do with power than hating humans. Not that he has much love for them.”  
  
Dean nodded. So, they could agree on that much.  
  
“So, Gabriel really is going to fight with us!” Charlie cut in. “This is historic! Unprecedented!”  
  
“You’re fighting the demons?” Sam asked, leaning in with curiosity and worry.  
  
“If we don’t, we’ll lose Purgatory altogether,” Charlie stated matter-of-factly.   
  
“Why do you stay here, among so many monsters?” Castiel asked, his brow furrowing.  
  
Charlie sighed. “It’s our home. Besides, if you’re born in Purgatory, you cannot to move to Lawrence. And you must have good connections to get citizenship to Freeland. I could. But Jo...” she gave Jo a sad smile. “And her mom won’t leave without her. So...” she shrugged, Jo slumping slightly with guilt. “It’s my duty to fight for a safe place to live.”  
  
Dean had never once thought of Purgatory as a ‘safe place to live’. Never. He had never even considered humans being born here. Living here. Having children here.  
  
“But...you’re a witch,” Castiel said, still looking utterly confused. “You belong here, if history serves. I thought witches lived everywhere except Haven. And all beings of supernatural powers are to live in Purgatory. Unless they want to cohabitate as human and supernatural beings. Then you live in Freeland. Lawrence is where humans live. So...how did Ellen and Jo come to live here?”  
  
Dean tried not to feel offended by the rash explanation of how they should be living.  
  
“Because,” Jo explained much more diplomatically than Dean would have, “life is messy, Castiel. My father was a hunter. So was my mother. My father was killed on a hunt and my mom got stuck here, had me, and became even more trapped here. Being born in Purgatory means you cannot passage to...anywhere. Then Mom wanted to help. There are plenty of supernatural beings that don’t want to live in violence. Why should they remain chained to a land riddled with Leviathan, werewolves, vampires, and...ya know...it’s not even that simple? Some of those creatures don’t want violence either. But demons and Leviathan? I’ve never met ones that weren’t scheming to either eat you or use you.”  
  
Castiel’s brow furrowed, but he thought on the matter for some time, nodding. “I think I understand. As a new mage, I was quite curious to meet other beings. In fact, my curiosity and interest in humans and other beings is, I suspect, one of the reasons Gabriel chose me to deliver his message.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean narrowed his eyes at the sprite, “about that. ‘Gabriel’, ‘Mage of Monday’...here, he’s known as the ‘Trickster’. He’s known for tricking people to their death. Teaching them lessons by killing them. Why are we working with someone like that?”  
  
Castiel frowned. “I do not understand your reference to ‘Trickster’,” he air quoted back, making Dean smirk, “but the Gabriel I know can be a bit mischievous. But as far as I know, he has never killed anyone.”  
  
“Dean,” Bobby added, “I don’t think we can apply those old nursery rhymes to the sprites we have today. Those rhymes are ancient. Likely based on the real deals a long time ago. Or their first children.”  
  
Dean still wasn’t convinced, but he tried to let his judgements go. “Look, I saw you the night you came to bring your message to my dad, which is exactly like the old, outdated nursery rhyme. He didn’t want your help. Or Gabriel’s.”  
  
Castiel nodded with a sad pull to his lips. “I fear I delivered the message poorly. Or something had already happened to anger John. He was unconvinced Gabriel would actually help.”  
  
“Well,” Charlie gave him a steady look, “from what I know, the people begged for his help two years ago. And again, last summer. Things are only getting worse. We really thought he wouldn’t reply.”  
  
“Two years ago?” Sam asked in shock. “What’s taking so long?”  
  
“There has been peace in Haven for centuries,” Castiel said quietly, looking like he was deep in thought. “To war against Michael, especially in defense of humans and other beings, would take a lot of power. And Gabriel does not seem like one to rush into battle. Michael, however, I am much less familiar with him.”  
  
Dean sighed. So, they had a sprite. A self-proclaimed powerful sprite. But he was new. He was clueless about the war. But then again, so was he. And his own father was involved.  
  
“I gotta ask,” Charlie blushed, “how did you become a cat?”  
  
Castiel sighed. “The night John turned me away, I sought a way to get home. There are sigils and curses that protect nephilim from using their wings to come and go in Lawrence. From what I understand, there are several places one can come to. Gabriel sent me, quite in a rush, to Lawrence. Once I got there, I couldn’t wing back. I searched out the local witch, who turned out to be away, and used a return spell in her book.” Castiel closed his eyes in frustration with himself. “When I came to, I was a cat.”  
  
“So, you snuck into Missouri’s place and tried to use her spell books,” Charlie grinned. “She certainly is clever.”  
  
Castiel leveled her with an unamused look.  
  
Charlie swallowed her grin.  
  
“I realized what had happened to John and knew I had to go along to help somehow. Or at least get home. And I also needed a cure. From being a cat.”  
  
Dean nodded slightly. Now things were making more sense. Castiel could barely use his powers, he didn’t know what was really going on, and he was looking for a cure and a way home. His blood ran a little colder as all the pieces stacked up. This guy had to be the worst sprite ever.  
  
“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Charlie said carefully. “I hope you’ll consider staying with us to help.”  
  
Castiel nodded immediately. “I will. I need to know more from Gabriel. I’m going to need to talk to him. But...first, I believe we should finish what we came for. And that is John Winchester.” His eyes landed on Dean again, sure and calm.  
  
All Dean’s angry thoughts tamped down a bit. He was staying to help. Dean nodded, looking down. His thoughts were just too slippery to say anything.  
  
“Thank you, Castiel. Mage of Thursday,” Sam stammered, his brow crinkling. “I’m not sure how to...address you. I don’t know sprite customs. Sorry.”  
  
Castiel grinned softly for the first time. “We met in a most unconventional way. Most address me as Mage of Thursday. Those close to me call me Castiel. I would consider us close. Friends even,” he added quietly.  
  
Sam gave him a big grin back, buoyed with Charlie and Jo. Bobby nodded politely. Dean...had no fucking idea what to think. Any other time he would have left right now to go check on the horses. But Impala was hours away. He glanced at Castiel, seeing his head turned down a bit. He knew the sprite was looking for some sort of confirmation from him, but he just didn’t have it yet.   
  
  
  
************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel went straight to bed following the talk and the tea. ‘Friends’ felt a bit forced at this point. As if they were too polite to indicate no, they weren’t friends yet, when he had mentioned it. He still felt incredibly alone. But he had his body back. He was immensely thankful to Charlie for that. She was truly a most competent witch.   
  
He had slept through the rest of the day and all that night. He woke early in the morning as the sun rose. He felt much more rested. But his grace felt close to depleted. He had felt this way since the change. As a cat, it had taken two weeks before he could muster something as simple as easing Dean’s stomach. Now, he felt wiped out again. It pulled at his muscles and saddened his soul. He hoped the damage was not permanent. He felt for his wings, feeling nothing. He left the bed he had slept in, putting on the breaches and shirt Charlie had given him. He left the socks, choosing to go outside barefoot.  
  
He walked down to a small stream, listening carefully to the noises around him. Everything seemed weed covered and dull here. Things in Haven seemed so much more vivid. The mud here was a light tan. The stream ran tiredly with murky water. There was a heavy, humidity to the air that gave everything a slightly dull sound.  
  
He sat on the bank, missing home. He wished he could talk to Gabriel. He wondered how Hannah, Samandriel, and Rachel were doing. One of them may become Mage of Thursday in his stead. The entirety of Haven could think him dead by now.  
  
He focused his thoughts, letting the steady bubbling of the stream soothe his nerves. He held his hand palm up and attempted a simple fire. Nothing happened. He frowned, concentrating on all he knew until something plopped into his hand.  
  
His eyes flew open to find a biscuit sitting in his palm.  
  
How in the world?  
  
He looked up to see Dean smirking at him. “I assume you were waiting for a hand-out?”  
  
“No...I was...” Dean made him feel quite nervous. He almost dropped the biscuit. He recovered it, holding it closer to his chest.  
  
“Hands still new to you too?” His smirk widened and his eyes twinkled mischievously.  
  
All the gathering of grace he had been attempting came out in a whoosh, sparks blazing from his palm. He jerked his arm away, patting out a singe on his pants.  
  
He grinned at his hand, but only sparks continued to pop and sputter. No actual flame or fire could hold. He let the grace go and stared at his palm. It was something.  
  
“That’ll come in handy, for sure,” Dean deadpanned.  
  
Castiel sighed, glaring up at him. “Is it human custom to assault and insult someone who is recovering?”  
  
Dean’s gaze narrowed for a moment, processing what he just said. “Do you mean, kick a man while he’s down?” Dean grinned again, a real one this time. “You talk so weird.”  
  
Castiel wanted to put him in his place, use his grace to shove him down. However, an unexpected grin tugged at his lips. “You are incorrigible.”  
  
Dean shook his head, sitting on the bank with him. “Eat up. We’re gonna talk strategy when you’re done making sparklers.”  
  
Castiel knew his eyes were wide. Other than Gabriel, and the adults when he was a child, no one had ever spoken to him the way Dean did. It was rude and bossy. “I am the third most powerful Mage in all of Haven. The most powerful Mage of Thursday since the original. You should show me some respect.”  
  
“You done?” Dean snapped.  
  
Castiel, who had been feeling his chest pump up with some pride, deflated instantly.  
  
“I know you think you’re better than everyone here, but you’re not. Not by a long shot.” Dean’s look was hard.  
  
Dean got to his feet, Castiel jumping up to follow him. “Dean!”  
  
Dean spun around, looking down on him with pursed lips.  
  
“I’m sorry.” It came out as small as he felt. “I never have been good at...‘people skills’. I don’t think I’m better than you. And I don’t think nephilim are better than humans.” He struggled for more words to put the smile back on Dean’s face. He was angry. And Castiel seemed to make him that way all the time.  
  
Dean studied him a moment. He rolled his eyes with a head nod. “Eat yer breakfast.”  
  
Castiel watched, deflating a little with every step Dean took away from him. He felt all the weight of the task ahead settle onto his shoulders. He wanted to cry. Thursdays were known for their melancholy. His was running deep and wide this morning. He had thought his nephilim form would fix everything. He was sure things would be going better if he had his powers, but even then, he was unsure.  
  
His mission had been to pass a message to John Winchester. So far, he, and his son Dean, were almost impossible to communicate with without angering them. He might have better luck with Sam. And Charlie seemed quite eager for his assistance. Gabriel might have to suffice with Charlie’s alliance rather than John’s.  
  
He sat down at the table, sitting the biscuit down. He was frustrated and feeling inadequate to be here. But here he was.  
  
“Good morning, Castiel,” Sam grinned, recognizing the ill mood immediately, his grin faltered.  
  
“Hello, Sam.”  
  
Sam had treated him fairly. He had to keep his feelings sorted out. Sam was not Dean. It would be unfair to treat him as such.  
  
Charlie smiled at him brightly, sitting down a platter of fruit and cheese. Dean carried a plate of ham and bacon over. Everyone passed plates around, sharing in a large breakfast.  
  
Castiel ate little. It was good to see them act more like they did when he was just Thursday the cat. Although, instead of being at the opposite end of the table to Dean, avoiding his eye, he would be right next to him. In his lap even. Eating scraps from his hand or a bowl he made for him. He pushed his plate away, picking up the biscuit Dean had brought him. He tore off small bites, eating them.  
  
He knew nothing of the land which they would be traveling over. He did not know any details regarding the demons. It was quite pointless of him to be here. But he listened quietly anyway.  
  
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
  
Dean knew damn well he was fucking this whole sprite business up. This guy was gonna gain his powers and strike him like a bolt of lightning. But he could not stop himself, it seemed. He had zero tolerance for arrogance. And that little bastard had told him he should respect him! Cocky little bastard.  
  
Even as they worked out their plans, he just sat there listening. He was more helpful when he was a friggin’ cat.  
  
“So,” Sam summarized, “we head out at dawn for Lincoln. We get the knife, then we head further north to Elizabethville to get Dad.”  
  
“Yes,” Charlie nodded. “Our biggest problem then is just getting back without getting killed. But after we bust John out, we’re gonna be a huge target.”  
  
“Any suggestions?” Bobby asked Castiel.  
  
Castiel looked at him with wide eyes. “If I had my powers, I would fly you all there and out. But I don’t. So...I suggest we move quickly and quietly.”  
  
Bobby only let a tiny bit of disappointment show, but Castiel caught it, his head drooping slightly.  
  
“Maybe some of us should stay here. We can regroup after Lincoln,” Dean suggested.  
  
“No,” Charlie countered, “once we leave Lincoln, we need to haul ass to Elizabethville. The demons will be alert. Who knows, it could be just enough to tip us fully into war.”  
  
“Should we go back fer the horses?” Bobby asked. “We’d travel a lot faster.”  
  
They all thought about that a moment.  
  
“It would be a risk...” Charlie said out loud, looking at the map of Purgatory on the table. “But…it might help just enough.”  
  
Dean liked the idea of that. “I think it’s worth the risk.”  
  
Enough of them agreed, making it the new plan.   
  
“I say we pack up now and leave fer Stockville by noon,” Bobby said, Charlie nodding agreement. “We leave Ellen’s fer Lincoln at dawn.”  
  
“That’ll take three nights by horse,” Charlie added. From Lincoln, it’ll take three nights to Elizabethville.”  
  
“That’s almost another week,” Sam sighed, worry heavy on his brow. “What if Dad doesn’t have that long?”  
  
“It’s our best plan,” Charlie assured him. “It’ll be twice that on foot.”  
  
“Let’s pack our gear and head out,” Bobby nodded, rolling the map up.  
  
They all busied themselves packing their gear. Castiel looked lost in the bustle and soon disappeared outside. At this point, the guy was a total liability to their trip. Dean decided, without saying to anyone, that he could just stay at Ellen’s and sit this leg of the rescue out. He refused to be responsible for the death of a sprite.  
  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
  
Charlie put some sort of spell on her door to keep her house locked. They headed back toward Stockville. Castiel had put his socks in his pocket, hoping they could procure some boots before leaving for the trip to Lincoln. For now, he was barefoot.  
  
His skin still felt slightly raw and sensitive, but he refused to let his bare feet slow him down.   
  
“Keep up, sparky,” Dean grinned.   
  
Castiel sighed. It was obviously an insult to his insufficient power.  
  
“Quit being so sensitive,” Dean joked.  
  
“Before I was turned into a cat,” Castiel said tightly, “I could set these entire woods aflame.” He gave Dean what he hoped was a withering glare.  
  
“Ooohh,” Dean smirked. “Til I see that, guess you’re stuck with sparky.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam scolded, shoving his brother a step. “Quit being such a jerk.”  
  
“Bitch,” Dean replied automatically.  
  
Castiel glared at the back of Dean. “Arrogant brat.”  
  
Dean stopped in his tracks, turning around. Castiel almost ran into him. He re-shouldered the heavy pack on his back full of food and water, looking at him. “Did you just say something?”  
  
“I did. I called you a brat. An arrogant brat.”  
  
The look of shock on Dean’s face was almost comical.  
  
“Aaaannnd, we’re separating you two for the rest of this little walk,” Charlie grinned, getting between the two and steering Dean ahead again.  
  
Sam, at least, was grinning.   
  
Castiel stopped suddenly, grabbing Sam’s arm, he looked deep into the woods on the right side of the road.  
  
Charlie stopped next, looking back at him. “Dean, Bobby,” she whispered, pulling a thin sword out.  
  
Jo, Bobby, and Dean stopped, drawing weapons, looking every which way.  
  
“Werewolves,” Castiel whispered. “Four, at least.”  
  
Dean and Bobby had guns trained to the woods but weren’t seeing them. He turned, seeing Sam stood the same, gun raised, but not seeing them. His eyes must be better than theirs. He stepped close to Sam, guiding his arm to where the closest one crept toward the road.  
  
“I see it,” Sam whispered, taking the shot. The loud boom made Castiel duck away.   
  
“There!” Castiel pointed, covering his ringing ear with his other hand.  
  
Sam shot the other one, shots ringing out from Bobby and Dean for the other two.  
  
“Are there more?” Sam yelled, putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Castiel searched the woods. “Two. But they’re running away.” Sam patted his shoulder with a huge grin.  
  
They all kept moving, quickening their pace.  
  
“You guys really need knives or swords,” Charlie warned. “You just announced us to the whole woods.”  
  
Dean frowned at her. “Sorry, Red. Next time I’ll let them run at us and hope for the best.”  
  
She whacked his arm, laughing. “Quit being so sensitive. It’s just a fact. Few around here have guns. You just put us on the map.”  
  
Dean sighed, tucking his gun in his breaches.  
  
“They were coming quickly,” Castiel offered. “They might have over-taken us otherwise.”  
  
Charlie and Jo exchanged a grin. “You shoulda been turned into a dog instead of a cat,” Charlie laughed. “You’re as loyal as they get.”  
  
Dean glanced back at him. No grin, but no frown or glare either. He gave him a nod, Sam patted his shoulder again. “Nice save.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He felt relieved he had at least helped this much.  
  
As the trip progressed, he found it more and more difficult to keep up. His grace was extremely drained, taking a toll on him physically. He needed to rest, but that would only slow them down.  
  
As they entered Stockville, the streets were more crowded with people. He could no longer pick up on their scents. Another let down. But he plodded on, straggling behind the group.  
  
“Hey there, blue eyes,” a man leered at him, three others behind him.  
  
Castiel stopped, looking at the men. “Good day.”  
  
None of them reached to clasp his forearm, his first clue they weren’t human. One of them grinned, their eyes flitting to black. Demons.  
  
He stepped back, bumping into a fifth demon behind him.  
  
“Where ya goin’ in such a hurry?” The fifth man breathed into his ear. Revolting chills spread down his neck and arm, prickling his skin.  
  
“Let’s take a walk,” said the first one who had spoken. The demon at his side gripped his arm painfully tight, pushing him forward.  
  
“I don’t think so,” Dean barked, shoving the demon away and pushing Castiel a step behind him where Sam quickly took hold of his arm.  
  
“You’re pretty too,” the demon glared.  
  
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Dean grinned tightly. “We gonna throw down, or walk away and eat dinner?”  
  
The five demons glanced around, seeing Bobby, Sam, Jo, and Charlie surrounded them. All armed.  
  
They backed away with steady glares and snarling smiles. None of the five moved until the demons were halfway up the street.  
  
“Come on,” Sam patted his shoulder. Castiel let out a breath of relief, following them.  
  
“Quit laggin’ behind,” Dean sniped with no heat.  
  
“You try walking barefoot for four hours,” Castiel winced.  
  
“Maybe Ellen has some boots. Or can help us track some down,” Sam added.  
  
Castiel nodded. “That would be most beneficial.”  



	11. Stockville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel struggles to adjust to being himself again. His grace is weak and he understands Purgatory very little.  
> Dean struggles to relate to Cas. He doesn’t want to like the sprite, but dammit...he kinda does.

Chapter 11: Stockville  
  
  
  
Dean followed Jo, Charlie, and Bobby into Ellen’s crowded bar, with Cas and Sam right behind him He thought of the cat that had traveled so far with them as a very intelligent being. Cat or not. But watching Cas gawk and flounder his way between the crowded tables, he had to wonder.  
  
He looked lost. Or overwhelmed. Mostly both.  
  
Sam steered him through the crowd, urging him to move along several times. They piled into the last booth in the corner as a group of vampires left.  
  
Dean slid into the booth, Castiel sliding in beside him, Jo and Charlie cramming in next. Sam and Bobby sat across from them.  
  
Castiel stared at the cups on the table, left by the last group. Dried blood coated each glass. Cas stared at them as if they were going to jump out and bite him.  
  
“Dude!” Dean whispered loudly, thumping his elbow solidly into Cas’ arm. “Quit looking like you’re new in town!”  
  
Cas turned a wide stare at him, making Dean pull back slightly at the startling blue of his eyes. “I am new in town.”  
  
Sam chuckled. “You don’t wanna advertise that. Just...look like you belong here.”  
  
Cas turned the blue blazes off Dean and onto Sam. He leaned forward, whispering loudly, “I do not belong here.”  
  
Dean facepalmed, closing his eyes. “I know, Cas.” Dean leaned closer to keep their conversation quiet. “You need to blend in, or we’re gonna be in another fight within minutes.”  
  
Cas, turning back to him, nodded, looking scolded. He pressed his mouth tightly with a worried frown.  
  
Jo cleared the table off, going behind the counter to find her mom.  
  
Dean sat back. Cas had no personal boundary issues. He had room to move over on the bench but kept himself damn near pressed against his side. Feeling crowded, Dean put his arm behind Cas along the backrest.   
  
Ellen arrived at the table with a tray of beers. She handed everyone a tall mug and sat next to Bobby. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”  
  
Bobby grinned, giving her a side-hug, looking a shade happier than he had been. “Change of plans,” he said quietly.  
  
“Dinner, then we’re gonna head to the house,” Jo explained, sitting next to Charlie again. From the exchange, mother to daughter, much more communication happened.  
  
Ellen nodded. “Good to see you, Charlie.”  
  
“You too.” Charlie gave her a warm grin.  
  
Ellen studied Cas with a brief look of curiosity. “Is this -” She stopped, looking at Bobby for answers. He leaned in, whispering quietly. Ellen’s eyes widened but she only nodded.  
  
“Let’s get you all some supper,” Ellen grinned, patting the table.  
  
“I’ll help,” Jo offered.  
  
“Me too,” Charlie added, following her girlfriend out of the booth. The three left for the kitchen.  
  
Castiel stayed right where he was, not sliding over to give them more room. Dean barely noticed though. There was too much going on around them to focus on just him.  
  
The bar was loud. Dean did his best to keep his eyes down at his own mug. No wonder Cas looked like a two-year-old in a candy shop. This country was the most bizarre place he had ever been. Fights broke out frequently. Over by the door, a vampire stabbed a werewolf. The scuffle was noisy, attracting some attention, but to the crowd, it seemed a regular event. And no law came. Dean wondered if there even was law here. The werewolf died, bleeding out.  
  
Dean tried to not let his eyes bug out as Ellen caught sight of the scene and yelled across the bar, “Get that mess outta here! I told you, Gordon, you keep spillin’ blood in here and you’ll be next!”  
  
Gordon, the vampire, grinned at Ellen, his fangs pulling back in. How the hell did she keep any kind of order here? What stopped all these creatures from killing her?  
  
He realized Sam turned, watching the vampire too. He kicked his boot under the table and Sam quickly looked back at his own beer. Cas was only frowning down at his, but his brow furrowed in worry, both hands wrapped around his mug of barely drunk beer.  
  
Without even thinking about it, Dean’s hand went from the backrest to Cas’ shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze to reassure him. Cas leaned in immediately and Dean was instantly aware that he had just put his arm around the guy. And now he was stuck that way.  
  
“Dean?” Cas whispered, turning to him.  
  
Dean couldn’t look at him. Not this close. If he tipped his head two inches to the side, Cas’ mouth would be on his ear. Shivers shot down Dean’s spine and a rush of tension gripped his chest. “Hm?” He managed, taking a drink.  
  
“I need to go. When I was a cat, I could smell every different creature there was. What if werewolves are the same way? What if they smell that I’m a...different?”  
  
Dean did turn slightly to look at him. His eye then moved to the booth behind them. There were four men there. Who knew what the hell kinda monsters they were, but one of them was staring at the back of Cas’ head hard enough that Dean knew he was thinking who-knows-what about Cas.  
  
His arm tightened and his eyes met Cas’ again. “Let’s go to Ellen’s.”  
  
Dean pulled his arm back to himself, leaning forward to talk to Bobby and Sam. “I gotta get beacon-boy outta here. We have some wolves sniffing around behind us.”  
  
“They smell him?” Bobby said curiously. “Guess that does make sense.”  
  
“We’ll be at Ellen’s. Bring us some dinner, would ya?”  
  
Sam and Bobby nodded.  
  
“And hurry the hell up,” Dean added as a table on the other side of the room tipped over, mugs and plates crashing to the floor as six men proceeded to beat the shit out of each other.  
  
Dean slid out of the booth. It was all he could do to not pull his gun. Every instinct in him told him to kill all these monsters. Instead, he took a firm grip on Cas’ hand and pulled him through the crowd.  
  
Out the door, Dean sighed with relief only slightly less than Cas did. He woulda let go of the guys hand, but Cas was holding on tightly. He was scared. Dean could see it. Other creatures could probably smell it.  
  
They walked along the wooden porch-row that connected all the businesses on this side of the street. People weaved around them. After the second guy looked at Cas a little too long, Dean tugged on Cas’ hand. Their eyes met. Dean raised an eyebrow at him, trying to tell him to blend the fuck in already! Cas only gave him a confused look.   
  
Dammit!  
  
“Hello there.” A tall black man with white hair stepped in front of them. “I see you’re new ‘round here.” His eyes flicked black and Dean had to seriously control his hand from grabbing a knife or gun. Shit. Did Cas have an anti-possession tattoo? Could sprites become possessed? The man stepped closer, eyeing Cas like a turkey leg. “I was wondering if this creature belongs to you?”  
  
Cas’ mouth dropped open slightly and his grip tightened even more.  
  
You could own creatures here? The thought horrified Dean. How could someone own someone else? Dean frowned but waited.  
  
“Is he for sale, by chance?” The man grinned as Cas’ face paled.  
  
“Not tonight he isn’t,” Dean answered tightly. He looked at Cas, frown still in place. “If he doesn’t get his shit together, I’ll consider it, next time I’m in town.”  
  
Cas’ face darkened to a shade of flushed anger. His eyes just began to spark a brighter than normal blue. Dean reacted quickly, grabbing Cas on the back of the neck, forcing his head down. He shoved Cas forward and started walking.   
  
“This one still needs a lot of work. And a firm hand,” Dean growled, steering them around the corner.  
  
The second they were out of sight, Dean let go and Cas turned on him with a glare so fierce that it would have taken his breath away if he wasn’t still trying to hurry them toward Ellen’s door.  
  
“You do not own me!” Cas snarled, grabbing Dean by the shoulder.   
  
Dean winced, turning to face him. “See that look?” He pointed to Cas’ face. “That’s what you need to keep on your face around here,” he whispered vehemently. “Now, come on!”  
  
Cas let him go and the pair finally made it to Ellen’s door.  
  
Only when they were both inside, door locked, and rooms checked, did Dean relax a fraction. He stopped, staring at Cas, who was standing square in the middle of the room, still looking pissed.  
  
“Cas! I know I don’t own you! I was goin’ along with that sick bastard to get us the hell outta there!”  
  
Cas’ frown eased a bit.  
  
“You gotta blend in better. Or you aren’t going anywhere with us. You’re like a fucking beacon, drawing trouble in on us!”  
  
Castiel frowned, looking down at the floor now.  
  
Dean sighed heavily, stepping closer. “Cas.”  
  
Cas looked up at him.  
  
“This place...it’s not safe. Not for any of us. But if something here figures out you’re a sprite...I don’t know what would happen to you.”  
  
Fear crested the frown on Cas’ face.  
  
“We’re all targets here,” Dean said more softly. “Humans are targets too. We’re just tryin’ not to stir up too much trouble. This could get outta hand so quick.”  
  
Cas’ eyes were searching him. Dean felt like he was supposed to be doing more for him. In fact, he didn’t look well. His face was still pale. There was a tightness to his mouth that was giving him a drawn look.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dean asked.  
  
Cas blinked at him a moment. “I will be. My grace is...very low. It’s like being hungry. Or thirsty. Or tired. But I cannot simply eat or drink to fix it.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Is it from the cat spell?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas sighed.  
  
Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Will your powers come back?”  
  
Cas thought a moment, as if he were reading his own insides. “I believe so. When I was a cat, my powers drained to almost nothing. After the initial change, I tried to use them. It wasn’t until we were aboard the ship that brought us to Purgatory that I could even use my powers. And it was very difficult.”  
  
Dean felt a chill sprinkle over him, the hair on his arms raising. “You used your powers?”  
  
Cas’ face softened. “I did. I healed your stomach. The best I could, anyway.”  
  
Dean swallowed. He had lain in bed with a sprite for two days while it used its powers on him.  
  
But the horrifying thought lost its zeal as he recalled lying in bed with the warm bundle of black fur at his stomach. Any time he moved away from him he was puking. But if he stayed still...  
  
“Well...thanks for that,” he said awkwardly.  
  
The tiniest smile tipped Cas’ mouth. He looked away, moving to sit at the table. “My grace is stronger than it was this morning. But after the walk...I just need rest. A lot of rest.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Take Jo’s bed for now. I’m sure she won’t mind. And when they bring dinner, I’ll wake you up to eat.”  
  
“Dean,” Cas stood slowly. “You won’t leave me here, will you?”  
  
That is exactly what Dean was planning. There was no way Cas was up for the trip. Besides, he was honestly kinda difficult to have around. And distracting.  
  
Cas stepped toward him, his eyes growing wider. “Dean, please don’t leave without me!”  
  
Dean sighed, his shoulders dropping a notch. “Cas, I think it would be better -”  
  
The look of rejection dulled the light in Cas’ eyes. Hurt and worry marred his brow. “I can be a help. When my grace is back...I can help!”  
  
Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
Shit.  
  
He had brought him here. So...it was, in some sort of way, his responsibility to help him home, he supposed. But in the condition he was now, he was going to get himself, and all of them, killed just by attracting unwelcome attention.  
  
It occurred to Dean just how alone and lost Cas must feel.  
  
He sighed.  
  
And then there was the clincher. A look of hope, capped with two of the bluest puppy-dog eyes, crept onto Cas’ face.  
  
Oooohhh, fuck all.  
  
“I won’t leave without you, Cas.”  
  
“Do you promise?” Castiel whispered. Desperate.  
  
“I promise,” he nodded back.   
  
A look of relief washed over him. He turned toward the bedroom. “I still get the urge to rub against you. Like when I was a cat.”  
  
Dean’s eyes bulged. “Dude. You are so frickin’ weird. And definitely don’t do that.”  
  
Cas laughed softly. “I won’t. I merely get the urge.”  
  
“Please stop saying that,” Dean winced.  
  
Cas nodded shyly. He turned to Dean again. “I...I like that you call me ‘Cas’. It reminds me of when we were friends. Even if I was just a cat.”  
  
Dean felt stung with another jolt of guilt. He closed his eyes, trying to temper his shitty attitude and just be a nice guy for a damn minute. He did like Cas. Castiel. A tricky, devious sprite. But he didn’t seem devious at all. His frustration that Cas wasn’t more powerful was rude, and he knew it. But he was desperate to save his dad. And sparks were not going to be any help. He vowed to be kinder. And...even respectful. His childhood nursery rhymes needed put to rest. Castiel was a mage. And he had saved their lives once at least. Impala’s twice. Before he could figure out just what to say, Cas had lain down and almost immediately gone to sleep. Dean slouched into a chair. What the fuck was his life anyway? He longed for a boring Wednesday in the great hall with his dad. Back when he and Sam’s hardest fight was to stay awake. Now monsters surrounded him on a quest in a foreign land, and he had to talk their newest addition out of his ‘urges’ to ‘rub against him’.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel woke slowly to the sounds of dishes being placed on the table. A smell of vegetable stew of some sort filled the air.  
  
His stomach growled. Light filtered in through the small, narrow windows. It seemed late in the day, but it was difficult to tell. The sun never seemed very bright here.  
  
There were sleeping rolls laid out on the floor against the walls. Some of them must have slept here while he was sleeping. Could he have slept an entire day? It was most likely that.  
  
He sat up, stretching, feeling his back adjust with little popping noises. With a great yawn, he got to his feet. He pulled his shirt on and adjusted his breaches, re-tying them at the waist with the thin, leather laces cinching them tighter. He ran a hand through his hair as he peered through the narrow window.  
  
The muddy streets of the town slopped under passers feet. It was raining steadily. The smell here was unpleasant. It smelled musty. In the woods there was an underlying rot to the breeze. But that was better than the bar. Over the smell of food and beer, the people here were dirty, often reeking of body odor. It was a foul place and he longed for home.  
  
He stepped back, closing his eyes, and centering himself to take stock of his grace. He opened his palm in front of him and began the slow process of pulling grace from within. He felt the gather of air and concentrated on his palm.  
  
A fire the size of a pear erupted with a whoosh.  
  
Relief filled him and he allowed the smile to linger as he took the air back and the flame went out.  
  
Again, he closed his eyes and felt gently at the grace that flowed through him. It was there. Pulsing. Not its normal thrum. But it was there. Much steadier than he had felt it since that fateful spell.  
  
He tipped his head, concentrating. He cleaned himself with a ripple that cascaded over him. His mouth was fresh and the grime from the road was gone.  
  
And still, he pulsed evenly.  
  
These were such small, insignificant things at home. And he felt elated to have them back. He mended two small cuts on his feet from the walk yesterday and eased the soreness in them.  
  
And still, his grace pulsed evenly.  
  
He frowned. The pulse was just a bit weaker.  
  
He let the thoughts go, settling for what he had. He was most definitely improving.  
  
Laughter caught his attention from outside his room as Bobby and Jo laughed at something Charlie was saying.  
  
He pushed the thin bedroom door open, coming into a room full of activity. Bags were being repacked, dinner was being set, and everyone paused at his sudden appearance.  
  
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean grinned up at him from a saddlebag.  
  
“Cas! You’re up!” Charlie grinned, stepping away from the table to hug him.  
  
Castiel, not expecting hugs for something as simple as waking up, though caught off guard hugged her back belatedly.  
  
“Is it morning?” He asked, voice still scratchy from a long sleep.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam grinned, patting him on the shoulder as he stepped into the bedroom. “You slept all night, an entire day, and another night. We thought we might have ta leave ya.”  
  
Castiel, shocked by this, looked at Dean. He had promised!  
  
“We weren’t leavin’ ya,” Dean frowned. “I’da carried your ass if I had to. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”  
  
Castiel frowned at that. “I am sorry I slept so long. I do feel much better.”  
  
“Good,” Bobby nodded. “Got any of yer mojo left?”  
  
Castiel frowned. “Mojo?”  
  
“Your magic,” Charlie explained, putting a large pot in the middle of the table.  
  
“My...yes,” he nodded. “I was able to make a flame, and clean myself.”  
  
Several raised eyebrows at that.  
  
Jo stepped up to him curiously. She felt his hair and smelled him. “You can take an instant bath?”  
  
That was highly incorrect and over simplified, but that’s how the humans seemed to like things explained often. “Yes.”  
  
“Cool. Ya hungry?”  
  
“Very.”  
  
They all gathered at the table to eat. From the conversation going on, Castiel learned they were leaving for Charlie’s house. Gathering some supplies there and continuing. They would be taking horses. They would travel by day only because night, on the road, was too dangerous.  
  
They seemed to have collected a lot more weapons of all sorts. Knives dipped in special things for certain creatures, silver, iron, and wooden stakes. They all had large machetes now as well.  
  
Castiel was surprised to learn Ellen and Ash were coming as well. It seemed their group grew every day.  
  
The stew was bland. Not for Ellen’s bad cooking, but for lack of spices and fresh food.   
  
“Got you somethin’,” Dean grinned, interrupting his quiet wondering.  
  
“You did?” Castiel asked, slightly surprised. Dean seemed in a better mood. Whatever was the reason to improve the man’s mood, Castiel was grateful.  
  
Dean got up, pulling a pair of black boots from next to one of the saddles. “Try ‘em on. See if they fit.”  
  
“Dean! Thank you!” They did not even appear to be worn before. They were shorter than the style nephilim wore, making him grin that he would fit in with them. He had no idea if Dean had stolen them or bought them, but he was thankful, nonetheless.  
  
Dean grinned, sitting back down. Castiel pulled his socks from his pocket. They had been the only thing he had brought. He pulled them on and slid his foot down into one boot. He slid the other on and stood. They were too tight, squeezing his feet.  
  
He glanced at Dean, who was looking up at him.  
  
“They are wonderful.”   
  
Dean grinned, going back to his bowl of stew.  
  
He looked down at them again. He pictured the stitching and leather and stretched them with his grace, adding cushion to the flat soles. He grinned. They were perfect.  
  
He sat back down, catching a knowing grin from Charlie. Not wishing to spoil that happy grin Dean had given him, he simply grinned back at Charlie and took a drink of water.  
  
When they finished their meal, they washed the dishes and packed some of them into a bag. He thought Ellen was packing entirely too many things but kept his opinion to himself. He had found that he often thought humans did things in strange ways, only to learn shortly after, that it made perfect sense in their world.  
  
“Cas,” Dean waved him over to his saddle sitting by the wall. Castiel came, squatting beside him with a brow raised in question. “I got you some more things.”  
  
Castiel watched with growing shock as Dean pulled a bag over. “Got you another pair of breeches, couple pairs of socks, another shirt, a coat, and a bed roll.”  
  
Castiel looked at him, hardly knowing what to say. “You bought all this? For me?”  
  
“Well, you need your own stuff. You won’t fit in my bedroll anymore,” he laughed a short, nervous little laugh. “Anyway, it’s not much, but you’ll need them. And who knows when we’ll get the chance to shop again. From what Charlie says, Stockville is the most civilized town in Purgatory.”  
  
“Thank you, Dean. I hope I can repay you.” He shook the coat out, looking at it with a huge grin. “This looks like my old one.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah. I remember you had on a long, tan coat. This one’s not as nice. But it’s better than nothing.” Dean gave him a quick nod. “Let’s go load up the horses.” Dean stood, handing Castiel the bag and roll.  
  
Castiel took them, wondering if Dean remembered how he had given a descriptive account of what he had looked like and referred to him as ‘hot’. He grinned at the memory, hoping Dean could feel that way again maybe someday. When his grace replenished, he would be able to give Dean, and all the others, so much more.  
  
Castiel was relieved to find that he was able to carry heavy loads and walk to the stable without feeling it effect his grace at all. He had felt so weak by the time they had gotten to town two days ago, that he knew he was utterly defenseless. He felt much more capable today.  
  
“There’s my beautiful baby!” Dean called, grinning with pride at Impala. She snorted and pawed the stall floor. “I’m gettin’ ya out on the road today, I promise.” He scratched her forehead as she pushed her long head into his chest.  
  
“She truly adores you,” Castiel grinned as he sat the supplies he was carrying in the aisle.  
  
“What’s not to adore? I’m adorable!” Dean laughed at his own joke, Sam rolling his eyes with a grin as he walked by.  
  
Castiel chuckled softly. “She thinks you’re full of yourself as well.”  
  
Dean scoffed, turning to look at him. The playful grin on his face dropped as he stared at Cas more closely. “Can you talk to her? Can you hear her thoughts?”  
  
“No,” Castiel clarified. “I can read her emotions. It’s more like...feeling the energy she puts out. There aren’t words. But I can understand her perhaps more clearly than you.”  
  
Dean looked at him in wonder. “Huh.”  
  
Castiel looked around as Bobby, Sam, Ash, and Jo stared at him. “All nephilim can. If they want to.” He did not further clarify that most nephilim would not bother. Most cared little for the use or care of animals. In Tree of Life, where some nephilim had pets perhaps. But they were usually more unusual animals, such as elephants, tigers, lions, or bears. Castiel enjoyed the simplicity of dogs, cats, and horses that humans kept around for comfort and use. Especially now that he was back in his own body. The memory of Bobby’s dog still made him want to flinch.  
  
“Can you ask her stuff?” Dean asked, looking excited.  
  
“Yes, if she’s open to communicating, she will answer me,” Castiel explained.  
  
Dean gave him a sudden, sharp look. “Can you hear my thoughts?”  
  
“No,” Castiel narrowed his eyes at the look of relief on Dean’s face. Though it did make him even more curious to what Dean wouldn’t want him to hear.  
  
Dean grinned and clapped his hands once, staring at Impala. “Hm. Ask her if she’s feeling good? Like, is she ready for a two-hour trip?”  
  
Castiel could not help but smile at Dean’s boyish grin of excitement. He turned to Impala, pushing the question of how she was. She lowered her head, snorting sharply.  
  
He waited as everyone seemed to wait and want to know.  
  
“It’s okay, Impala,” Dean encouraged her. “Tell ‘im. You got any pain? Your hooves good?”  
  
Castiel felt the bulge of affirmation from Impala. “She is healthy and sound.”  
  
Dean looked at him with such wonder. “She is?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Castiel waited, feeling another anxious nudge from her. “She is ready to go.”  
  
“Wow,” Dean shook himself from staring at him. “Awesome! Check the others, would ya?”  
  
Castiel nodded, walking to each horse. Ash and Ellen’s horses were easy enough to talk to. They both seemed leery of leaving the safety of the barn. Especially Ash’s bay. Ash nodded, knowing as much.   
  
Challenger was obstinate about answering. All he got from him was bulging notions of ‘no, refuse,’ and an amusement at his own lack of answering.  
  
“Challenger is fine to ride. And quite rude.”  
  
Dean burst out laughing and Sam sighed, swatting the horse gently. “Be nice!”  
  
“He finds you amusing as well, Sam,” Castiel explained.  
  
“Wow. You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” Sam shook his head at his massive brute of a stud.  
  
“He definitely agrees,” Castiel noted, moving on to Jo’s horse. She was a large dapple gray.   
  
“Her left hind leg is sore,” Castiel reported. “Oh. I believe she has a bone spur.”  
  
Jo frowned. “Charlie and I have been trying to help her with her left leg for a while now.”  
  
Castiel nodded, going into the stall, feeling her entire leg. “If she is coming for the entire journey, I will need to heal it now.”  
  
“You can do that?” Charlie grinned with awed excitement.   
  
“Perhaps. I’m not that experienced with healing. But I can try.”  
  
Jo nodded, giving her horse a worried look.  
  
Castiel pushed the feeling of explaining what he was going to do. She agreed for help, so he ran his hands on her leg again. He stopped over the area that was so irritated and pooled his grace.   
  
Gabriel had told him that healing was like mending. And he had to want it. It had worked easily enough on the small cuts on his own feet, so he felt a bit more confident to try it. He focused on the soft inflamed tissue, the sinew of the muscles and the processes of the bone. He could feel the offending growth of bone and broke the bone spur down cell by cell, eating away at the foreign nub causing so much pain. He left the bone smooth as it should be, withdrew his grace from the muscle, pulling away the inflammation, doing the same with the soft tissue until he broke the connection and stumbled back a step, gasping for a breath.  
  
“Cas! You okay?” Charlie steadied him, giving him a worried look.  
  
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It was just...draining.”  
  
His grace fluttered and whooshed, thready and weak. He sighed. The horse’s relief and thankfulness were more than enough to buoy his spirits, even if his grace was weak again.  
  
They quickly saddled and packed the horses, and the entire group headed out of the barn to mount.  
  
Sam, Bobby, and Ellen mounted. Bobby pulled another horse behind him, loaded with bags. Charlie and Jo shared Jo’s horse, which tossed her head with joy at her healed leg. Ash and Dean mounted.   
  
“You need a lift, man?” Ash asked, looking down at Castiel.  
  
“Um...” He glanced up at Dean.  
  
“No. I got you,” Dean frowned, as if there were any question. “You been riding with me for three weeks now.”  
  
Castiel grinned. Dean seemed to have dropped so many of his reservations he had when he had first changed back into his nephilim form.   
  
Dean slid his foot out of the stirrup for Cas to use. Castiel felt heavy and sluggish from healing the horse, but he gripped Dean’s hand and stepped into the stirrup, swinging his leg over to sit behind Dean. He kicked his toe out of the stirrup, Dean taking it again with his.  
  
“You do know how to ride, right?” Dean asked.  
  
“I have been riding for three weeks,” Castiel answered him. He watched as Dean held his breath slightly, leaning away from Castiel’s words.  
  
“Right,” he answered.  
  
“But the answer is yes. I have ridden on occasion. Just...not very often.”  
  
“Good enough,” Dean grinned, tapping Impala into walking.  
  
Castiel could feel the need to sleep. He leaned his head onto Dean’s shoulder, putting his arms around him as they walked out of town.  
  
“I’m very tired,” Castiel explained, not wanting to annoy Dean. He would normally never lean against someone.  
  
“Okay,” Dean said quietly. “Just...don’t fall off.”  
  
Castiel grinned. This was what he had grown so used to. The steady heartbeat against his solid frame. Dean’s smell of leather. The feel of his shirt and his body just beneath it. Impala’s steady gait.   
  
His eyelids dropped immediately, and he wrapped his arms just a little tighter around Dean.  
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel woke to the gentle rocking of horse walking. Dean had a secure grip on one of his sleeves, holding him in place. He moved his head, wanting to snuggle into him further, but fought the urge. He took a deep breath and sat up.  
  
Dean glanced over his shoulder, seeing he was awake, he let his sleeve go.   
  
“How long was I asleep?”  
  
“We’re halfway there,” Dean answered softly. “Feel better?”  
  
“Yes. Thank you.”  
  
They rode along for some time, quietly listening to the woods around them.  
  
“I know I don’t understand all the ways of humans. But I believe Ellen has over-packed,” he said quietly to Dean.  
  
Dean turned, glancing at him with a questioning look until understanding dawned on him. “Oh. You slept through yesterday and missed some stuff.” He lowered his voice a little more, letting Impala lag behind the others. “There was a nasty brawl at the bar. Some shapeshifter shanked a Leviathan and stabbed Ellen in the arm. Bobby kinda freaked out. Says he’s bringing her home. And Jo thinks she should go. Even if she and Charlie won’t. They wanna stay and fight.”  
  
Castiel nodded. Ellen was human. It would be good for her to get out of Purgatory. “It still doesn’t explain the large number of items she’s bringing.”  
  
Dean smirked. “She’s staying at Charlie’s while we’re away. She and Ash can take care of her place until she gets back.”  
  
“I see,” Castiel grinned. “I’m sure Bobby would do well having someone to live with. He must get...lonely.”  
  
Dean nodded slowly. “I’m sure he does.”  
  
More time slipped by and Castiel wished he could wrap his arms around Dean again. But he did not.   
  
Though they were quiet, Castiel’s head was anything but. He had so many questions about humans. Lawrence. Freeland. Purgatory. He cleared his throat.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
He noted how Dean took a deep breath, sometimes even jerked slightly, every time he started speaking to him. Was he annoyed with him? Did he still feel he was a burden on the group? Could it be the thought of a sprite so near him was revolting?  
  
“Yeah, Cas?”  
  
“Um...what are the sigils on humans’ arms for? When you greet, you grip each other’s forearms.”  
  
Dean grinned back at him. “Sprites don’t do sigils?”  
  
“No. I’ve read about them in the Stacks, but I forget what they’re purpose is.”  
  
Dean rode silently for several strides before beginning to talk. “So...story goes that the angels pissed the Creator off so bad that he threw them down here and locked up heaven and left.”  
  
Castiel had never heard the tale quite so simplified, but it was accurate enough.  
  
“So, bunch of time goes by and this witch’s kid is killed by lightning. Lightning struck him while he headed to school. She was a really powerful witch and brought him back.”  
  
“From death?” Castiel asked, shocked.  
  
“Yeah. So, dude is back from the dead and tells this story about going to the veil. That it was a big blank wasteland where ghosts just drift around. But he found The Halls. Sprites don’t know about The Halls?”  
  
“Yes. Now I remember. The human, Kevin Tran, entered the veil, and visited his grandmother. She told him the only reason they could find each other was because she had created a sigil. More like a blood-rite spell, with her daughter, and then he was given the sigil as well.”  
  
“Right,” Dean nodded. “So, when Kevin came back from the veil, he and his mom traveled all over Freeland and Lawrence, telling everyone that would listen, that to reunite with loved ones, all they had to do was create a sigil, with a witch, and whoever shared the sigil, can gather in a room of their own in The Halls. Keeps you from drifting around lost.”  
  
“But...you have many sigils. Which room will you go to?”  
  
“Here, hold this,” Dean said, handing Cas Impala’s rein to hold with his left hand. He rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. “I can go to any of these rooms without getting lost in the veil. This one,” he pointed to a W with a dagger across the top of the letter, “is the Winchester Family sigil.”  
  
“That is the sigil Adam has,” Castiel recalled. “And Sam.”  
  
“Right. The sigil creates a room in The Halls. Any Winchester by blood gets this sigil. So, in the veil, any Winchester has access to this room.”  
  
Castiel had a vague memory of reading about this belief and tradition. He had no idea it had become such a cultural norm. He reached around Dean’s proffered arm and touched another next to it that looked like a broken figure eight with two lines extending from its open ends. “What is this one?”  
  
“Me and Sam.”  
  
“You have a room for just the two of you?”  
  
“Yeah. You create sigils with anyone you want to be able to find in the veil. So, if Sam and I want to hang out without the whole Winchester tribe milling around us. We can go to this room.”  
  
“This dagger?” Cas asked, touching a dagger that looked identical to the one from the Winchester sigil, except it was just a dagger.  
  
“That is my mom, dad, Sam, and me. My family.”  
  
“Not Adam?”  
  
“No. We could meet in the Winchester room,” he pointed back to the W with the dagger. “I don’t have one for just him yet. We can also do one for Dad, Kate, Sam, me, and Adam. Kind of a...different family group.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“This one,” Dean pointed to another next to the Winchester sigil that looked like a shield with a C on it, “is the Campbell family sigil.”  
  
Castiel shivered slightly. His time at Campbell compound had nearly killed him. Further down, closer to his wrist was a music note. “What is this one?”  
  
“Singer family. Not Bobby’s original family sigil. A new one for Bobby, me, and Sam. We had it done about twelve years ago. Bobby isn’t close to his own family. But for a while, Sam and I were like his own kids.”  
  
“How do you know when to create one with someone?” Castiel asked. He marveled at the comforting thought of belonging to so many rooms. To know you would see loved ones again. Not that he had anyone to fit such a description.  
  
Dean shrugged, taking the reins again. “When you have someone in your life that you know you want to see in the afterlife. Good friends. Family. Things like that.”  
  
There was one more, a triangle with a line to the center, ending with a small circle. “The last one?”  
  
Dean looked down at it, brushing his thumb across it. “My best friend. Benny. First guy I hunted with. First guy I...he was my boyfriend. For a while, anyway.”  
  
A cold stab pricked Castiel’s chest. “You...long to reunite with him?”  
  
Dean said nothing for several strides. “He was killed on a hunt. We kinda split ways before that. I wouldn’t say I ‘long’ to see him. But yeah, it would be good to see him. Ya know? We were close for a few years. But he chose a different kind of life than me. And I’m not sorry we parted ways.”  
  
Castiel reprimanded himself for feeling such joy when he heard this. He let his eyes drift down over Dean’s frame. He was so at ease on horseback. He had stopped pulling away every time Castiel’s chest bumped his back and had finally let them ride together. Castiel wanted to rest his hands around Dean’s waist. It seemed so natural to sit that way. But he did refrain, keeping his hands on his own thighs.   
  
He had never felt quite so infatuated with a person before. Everything about Dean was fascinating to him. The timbre of his voice, the green hue of his eyes, his rough, calloused hands, his hips, his legs...  
  
Castiel sat back a fraction, pressing his mouth in a hard line. He needed to focus on the trip. Not the human who sat so enticingly in front of him. With his cocky grin, endearing smiles, sure hands, his steady heartbeat that used to put him to sleep at night.  
  
“Here we are,” Dean said softly.  
  
Castiel was slightly surprised to realize Charlie’s house was just ahead. The ride had gone so quickly.  
  
“So...what do sprites believe happens to them in the veil?” Dean asked.  
  
Castiel refocused his attention. “Nothing. We just...exist. You become a part of the great nothing. Merely a string of celestial intent in the fabric of the nothing.”  
  
“Damn. That’s fucking depressing.”  
  
Castiel raised both eyebrows in surprise. But yes. Perhaps it was. “I have no one to share a sigil with anyway.” He had not meant to say it out loud. It was quiet and sounded forlorn to his own ears.  
  
Impala had stopped in front of the small house. He dismounted, not wanting to talk about it anymore.  
  
Dean dismounted right behind him, putting a hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. “It’s not too late, ya know. You can make ties here. To us.” He swallowed nervously, taking on a gruffer tone. “If a sprite wants to be friends with insignificant humans, that is.”  
  
Castiel frowned, grabbing Dean’s arm as he started to walk away. “Dean. Humans are not insignificant to me. They never have been. And you, least of all.”  
  
Dean fought a grin, seeming to have difficulty processing the thought.   
  
Castiel did not want to go back to Dean being so angry with him and his kind. He had to show him that not all nephilim were cold to humans. “We are...friends, are we not?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean stammered. “Yeah, Cas, we’re friends.”  
  
Castiel smiled proudly.   
  
He had a friend.  
  
  



	12. The Road to Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group heads north, further into Purgatory in search of John. Castiel starts to gain some of his grace. Dean and Cas get to know each other even more.

Chapter 12: The Road to Lincoln  
  
  
  
Dean watched as Cas went into Charlie’s house. He rolled his shoulders at the memory of Cas laying against him for an hour while he had slept. He loosened Impala’s girth, feeling his cheeks flush at the memory of Cas’ arms being around him. His hands resting on his thighs. The sprite was really getting under his skin. Not in an agitating way, but in a way he was having a little trouble accepting. The dude was gorgeous. Sprite or not.  
  
He busied himself helping Ellen and Ash unload their horses.   
  
“You can take one of the horses,” Ellen said, stopping him from removing the saddle. “Unless you prefer that sprite riding with you.” Ellen quirked a grin at him.  
  
A definite pang of disappointment struck Dean. But it only made sense. It was unfair to expect Impala to carry the weight of two men. “Yeah. Okay. Just tell Cas to pick which one. I guess he can ask the horses who wants to go.” He grinned, finding that ability damn cool.  
  
She nodded, taking the last of the saddlebags into the house. The plan was to keep moving. They had a lot of distance to cover to get to Lincoln.  
  
He went inside the house. Charlie was in her room, rummaging around in her wardrobe looking for something. Dean stepped inside and closed the door. Jo, who knelt on the floor, going through a chest, turned to look at him. “Is everything okay?” She whispered.  
  
“Yeah.” He took a few steps to keep his voice down. “Charlie, can you bring whatever you need to make sigils?”  
  
Charlie, who had pulled a velvet bag from deep inside the wardrobe, gave him a grin. “Yeah. You want to make a sigil?”  
  
Dean fought the blush off, going for nonchalance. “Yeah, well. Cas...he doesn’t have any. I figured...we’re going on a rescue mission. We could do one for the six of us.”  
  
Charlie nodded, looking like there was more she could say but didn’t. “That would be awesome. I’ll just grab a few ingredients and we’ll be good.”  
  
Dean nodded. “I mean, you don’t have to be in it, if you don’t want. It was just an idea. I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders, feeling increasingly insecure about the whole thing.  
  
“I’m in!” Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “This is the mission of all missions! A fellowship!”  
  
Dean relaxed. “Alright, Red.” He headed back out to the kitchen.   
  
“Bout ready in there?” Bobby asked.  
  
“Yes,” Charlie and Jo called.  
  
Dean headed back outside as Bobby started saying goodbye to Ellen. Sam was sitting on a tree stump outside, waiting. He had an amused look on his face as he sat there watching Cas and Ash with the horses.  
  
“Cas is taking Connie,” Sam announced with a loaded grin.  
  
Dean frowned. “He’s taking the pack horse? Cas! Not the pack horse.”  
  
Castiel turned to him as he approached. “She wants to go. She feels the need to prove herself -”  
  
“She’s a pack horse! Take Ash or Ellen’s.”  
  
Dean jerked his arm away as the large brown horse nipped at him.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Cas frowned. “She’s becoming frustrated with your attitude.”  
  
Dean stepped back. “My attitude,” he scoffed. “Fine. Whatever.” He eyed the horse. She was just a bit smaller than Impala. She looked strong and sound with a nice straight back. He had no idea what kind of training she had. Worst case scenario, it wouldn’t work out and Cas would have to ride with him. He kicked the little part of him that liked that thought. “My bad. Sorry, Connie.”  
  
“She’s good,” Ash confirmed, putting a saddle on her. “She’s just young, is all.” He gave the horse a fond pat. “Take care, Continental.”  
  
Dean sighed softly. “We need to keep moving. So, gear up, Sparky.”  
  
Cas pinned him with a semi-amused look, letting the nickname go this time. Dean grinned back at him.  
  
He mounted Impala, waiting on the others to mount. He felt antsy about this trip taking so long. It would take two and a half more days to get near Lincoln. He just hoped to hell they made it there in one piece.  
  
  
  
********************************************  
  
  
Charlie and Jo took the lead. Charlie knew her way around Purgatory better than any of them. She also knew what to watch for. Castiel and Dean tended to ride in the center, followed by Sam and Bobby.  
  
The roads were dirt, sometimes narrowing to little more than weed covered trails. Signs were few and far between. The air shifted from varying smells of decay, rot, and stenches he could not put a name to. They carried their own water, drinking sparingly. The weather was cool enough to wear their light coats, but balmy enough to feel sticky.   
  
They passed several stray wanderers on the road. The woods seemed alive with what Castiel hoped were only animals. They rode hard until close to dusk. They talked little, constantly on watch for monsters and demons.  
  
Charlie and Dean agreed on a stopping place. It was a small clearing just off the road. Castiel dismounted, pulling the pain out of his achy muscles.   
  
Bobby staked the horses together, feeding them.  
  
Sam and Dean went to work quickly to gather wood and build a fire. Jo and Charlie began unsaddling and brushing all the horses. Castiel followed Dean to the pile of sticks on the ground where he was making a fire. He knelt next to him. “What can I do to help?”  
  
Dean glanced at him, his eyes flitting down his face like they so often did. “Uh...can you cut up some potatoes?”  
  
“Yes. Of course.” He went to the saddle bag, pulling out four large potatoes. He took the frying pan and a knife from the bag and sat next to Dean again. He cut one of the potatoes into small chunks.  
  
“Just use three potatoes,” Dean said quietly. “We don’t want to run out of food.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He stared at the potato. His grace was feeling steady. Maybe he could do some of the simple things he had done as a child. He summoned his grace, thinking about the potato separating. He waved his hand and the potato fell to diced pieces. He smiled. He looked at the third potato, picking it up. If he could grow things...perhaps he could create them. He tried. He tried again.  
  
He went back to the chopped potato, holding a piece with a seed in it. He thought about growing it, feeding it nutrients, feeling the plant expand and grow.  
  
He opened his eyes to see a potato larger than his hand. He smiled.  
  
Feeling watched, he looked over to find Dean staring at him in wonder. “How’d you do that?” He whispered.  
  
Castiel grinned. “I am a mage.” He handed Dean the potato.  
  
Dean took it, turning it over in his hands to stare at it. “We can eat this?”  
  
“We can,” Castiel grinned harder. He liked impressing Dean. He focused his attention on the wood Dean had started to gather into a pile. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and lit the fire, shifting the sticks and logs to settle better into flames. Dean stared at it with an open mouth.  
  
“You can do that too?”  
  
Castiel nodded. “What else would you like?”  
  
“Can you just...make whatever I want appear?”  
  
“No. But if we have one. Or seeds. I can grow another.”  
  
“That’s friggin’ awesome! Can you clean water? Or make more feed for the horses? Can you do that with other food?”  
  
Castiel chuckled at the excitement in Dean’s eyes. He raised a hand to slow him down. “I’m not sure how much I can do with my grace still so low. But I will try a few more things.”  
  
“Yeah!” Dean nodded, sitting back a little, watching him closely.  
  
Castiel got up, going to the saddlebag for more food. He took one onion, one carrot, a tin of seasoning and a handful of dried ham. He multiplied the onion and the carrot, chopping them with a wave. It felt so good to be using his grace again. So natural. He took a pinch of the seasoning but could not multiply it. There was something too removed or complex about it. He shrugged, Dean still watching him in awe. He did not even try to reproduce the ham. He was sure that at best, they would end up with a pig embryo.  
  
Dean got the pot, sitting it near the fire. He poured water into the it until Castiel stopped him. “Wait. Pour a little into my hands.”  
  
Dean grinned, pouring him a handful. It took a few tries, losing some to steam, but soon enough, water overflowed his hands, filling the pot.  
  
“That is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean grinned. By now, Sam, Bobby, Charlie, and Jo were all watching too.  
  
Castiel could feel his energy draining. His grace fluttered. But he was enjoying himself immensely. “I can cook it too.”  
  
“Easy there, Sparky,” Dean laughed, taking the pot. “Save your strength. We got a long ride tomorrow. It’ll cook on its own.” Dean settled it into place.  
  
“That was amazing!” Sam mused. “I guess sprites never go hungry.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Not all sprites can do that. But enough that it helps keep everyone fed.”  
  
“Everyone in Haven,” Jo added, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Starvation is fairly common here.”  
  
Castiel’s enjoyment deflated. After seeing the land he had passed through all day, he imagined it would, indeed, be difficult to grow things.  
  
“Ease up, Jo,” Dean snapped. “It’s not Cas’ fault you live in the slums.”  
  
Jo glared at him.  
  
“Dean,” Bobby warned. “It ain’t Jo’s fault she grew up here either.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad I did,” Jo professed. “If I hadn’t grown up here, I wouldn’t have met Charlie.”  
  
“Please,” Charlie shook her head, taking Jo’s hand, “we gotta get out of here if we can. There is no way I want to live here the rest of my life.”  
  
“We’ll get you two outta here,” Bobby assured them. “We’ll find a way. I’m not leavin’ without ya.”  
  
Jo grinned, letting Charlie pull her in for a hug. “Sorry, Cas.”  
  
Dean was still glaring at Jo. Castiel tossed a stone next to Dean’s thigh, catching his attention. They exchanged a look, it having the effect Castiel was hoping for. Dean, distracted, let it go.  
  
They stayed close to the fire as dark set in. Charlie put hexes up and hung four hex bags to help protect them from attention. Castiel helped keep the horses calm and they ate the tasty dinner around the fire.  
  
“So, where are we?” Sam asked. “Are there states or land divisions?”  
  
“No,” Charlie answered. “There are nine towns in Purgatory. Everything else is just...this.” She pointed half-heartedly to the woods around them. “There are areas where there are more werewolves, or more demons. The towns are segregated. Stockville, where Jo’s from, is the most diverse place in Purgatory. That’s only because of the port and all the business that goes on there.”  
  
“What is Lincoln like?” Castiel asked, finishing his bowl of stew.   
  
“Lincoln is an open town. Anyone can go in. It’s a demon town for sure. With a lot of kitsune.”  
  
“Kitsune?” Dean asked. “Just...living in town?”  
  
Charlie nodded.  
  
“So friggin’ weird,” Dean shook his head.  
  
“What do you mean by, open towns?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Some towns, like the werewolf one and the shapeshifter town, are only open to them. They’re protective of their own. They let witches in, since we help them with wards and spells and whatnot. Humans...we’ll have to be very careful with you guys. You’re like walking suits or meals to the monsters.”   
  
“Tell us about Haven,” Sam said, taking a drink of water.  
  
Castiel thought about home. “There are four realms. The Garden, which is just beyond Sunken Ties. It is very lush and thick with wild animals. Some of the nephilim that live there are Collectors.”  
  
“Collectors?” Bobby asked.  
  
Castiel regretted bringing it up immediately. “Yes. Nephilim of The Garden are tasked with three things. Maintaining animal wildlife, protecting the gate to The Garden, and...collecting Eligibles, or eligible humans...partners for Nephilim.”  
  
“So, it is true,” Bobby huffed. “Sprites steal humans.”  
  
“No,” Castiel balked at the very thought. “People come willingly and are well taken care of. Humans walk as freely as the Nephilim. There are few. Nephilim do not have children often.”  
  
Everyone gave him a less-than-pleased look.  
  
He sat his empty bowl to the side. “Then there are the three trees. The great cities built by our ancestors. Tree of Life. That is where the mages Raquel and Barachiel rule. The streets are yellow painted bricks. They use their grace for the most frivolous things. They stay to themselves in general. It’s an odd sort of place.”  
  
Dean and Charlie exchanged a glance. “Sounds weird,” Charlie nodded.  
  
“Then there is Tree of Knowledge, where I am from. Uriel and Raphael are the Mages there besides me. Our streets are cobblestone, and everything is...orderly. It is home of the Stacks, which is a huge library.”  
  
“Wow,” Sam and Bobby murmured, looking interested.  
  
“Up north, is Tree of Thrones where Gabriel and Michael live. The streets are granite. Most of the buildings are of granite, stone, or brick. Gabriel’s mansion is vast. He loves music and throwing lavish parties.”  
  
“You know all the mages?” Charlie asked. “All the other six?”  
  
“I have met them all, yes,” Castiel answered.  
  
“Do you like them?” Jo asked, looking quite curious.  
  
Castiel sighed. “It is very different than what I have seen here. The order of Mages is absolute. I became Mage of Thursday because my grace is the strongest amongst the Thursday legion. Not because I have any leadership ability.”  
  
“Grace?” Sam asked.  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes in thought. “Grace is what you refer to as my magic. It is the part of me inherited from the angels, passed down through generations of nephilim, angels and humans combined. We have souls infused with grace. Every generation seems to have less and less, making our powers less and our lives shorter. But I have been fortunate enough to have been born with a lot of grace.” Sam and the others nodded, listening closely.   
  
“Each Mage receives ten abettors that assist them. I am friends with four of mine. Before my father, Kassiel, the last Mage of Thursday, passed away, I was an abettor and spent much of my time working in the countryside improving crops and beehives. The other abettors are not as close to me. Samandriel, Hannah, Anna, and Rachel are trustworthy and helped me a great deal my first few weeks.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, thinking of his family and friends. “They probably think I’m dead. I have no way to tell anyone where I’ve been.”  
  
“What’s your family like?” Charlie asked quietly.  
  
Castiel frowned slightly. “I met my father, Kassiel, several times. But I grew up in what we call a hold. They raise children together by age group, not relation. I did have a half-brother there. Samandriel. He is younger than I am, but I did try to keep an eye out for him.” He grinned at the memory of his young freckled face and bright blue, inquisitive eyes. “There were eight of us in my age group. It was...not always easy. My grace powers have always been strong. It set me apart. Not to mention, I created many messes while I was learning to control them.” He grinned, huffing a laugh at a memory. “One Thursday, during a formal dinner, the man in charge of my group decided to put me on display for being able to prepare food so young. I was quite nervous and instead of cutting a watermelon into bite size balls, I created over three hundred ball-shaped watermelons.” He grinned as everyone started to chuckle. “They were everywhere...”  
  
“Aw!” Charlie laughed hard. “I bet you were so cute!”  
  
Castiel shrugged. “None of the adults were impressed. And I tried to wave them away and they all flew about two feet and dropped again, hitting people and falling all over again.”  
  
Everyone was laughing harder now. He blushed at the amount of attention focused on him. “I miss just being able to...” he held his hands out as if he were holding a watermelon. He laughed at himself and the memory of all the stuffy men and women batting watermelons away. The laughing went on as Charlie told stories about her mother teaching her spells and her mishaps.   
  
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
  
Dean blew out a breath of boredom. Taking watch sucked. Charlie and Jo snuggled up in their blankets together. Bobby snored away by the dying fire, and Cas was sleeping hard. Sam was walking along the south end of their camp so he wouldn’t fall asleep. Dean hated quiet, solemn hours of the night. He never did before. But now the memories of his meeting with Crowley crept into his brain. He worried about what he had done. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what an unfair deal he had made. He should have demanded Crowley bring his dad to him.   
  
And what exactly happened to a soul owned by a demon? Would he just be a slave? Would he turn into a demon? He had no idea what to expect. It churned in his stomach.  
  
“You alright?” Sam asked, startling him.  
  
“Yeah. I’m ready to get out of this freakin’ place. Everything stinks here. We passed a stream this morning and the horses wouldn’t even drink out of it.”  
  
Sam nodded. “That stuff Cas was doing with the food and water was pretty cool! I don’t think we’re gonna starve to death.”  
  
Dean grinned, looking over at Cas’ sleeping form. His blanket was flat. “Where did he go?”  
  
The brothers searched the line of the woods around camp. “I never saw him move!” Sam whispered.  
  
“Me either.” Dean searched the camp again, pulling a gun out to aim into the woods. “CAS!” His heart started thundering in his chest. Bobby sat up.  
  
“Cas!” Sam yelled.   
  
“I’m here!”  
  
Dean looked down at Cas’ bedroll. There he laid, sitting up now and blinking wide-eyed. Dean took the few steps to Cas’ bed. He knelt, the pair eyeing each other. “You were gone! Where’d you go?”  
  
Cas gave him a confused look. “I didn’t go anywhere! You woke me up!”   
  
“Dude, you were not here,” Sam swore.   
  
Everyone was awake now.  
  
Cas frowned lifting his cover up. He turned slightly, looking under him. “My clothes are off.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You went to sleep with clothes on?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And now you’re naked?” Dean cleared his throat, fighting his eyes from following his naked skin below the blanket.  
  
“Yes,” Cas said quietly, glancing at the others nervously.  
  
Dean searched the ground around his bedroll but saw nothing. No sulfur, no animal tracks. “Do you remember anything after you fell asleep?”  
  
“You and Sam waking me up,” Cas said, frowning.  
  
“Do you sleepwalk?” Sam asked, looking as confused as Dean felt.  
  
“No. Never.” Cas looked around, pulling his cover closer to his chest. “I was gone?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean and Sam answered.   
  
“What would take me and then return me? And leave me naked?” His breath was coming quicker as he looked around with growing panic.  
  
“Well, you’re here. You’re safe,” Dean assured him.  
  
Cas looked up at him with concern. “Maybe...maybe I used my wings. I can, or could...” Cas stammered to a halt.  
  
Dean went weak in the knees, folding to sit on the ground where he had been kneeling. “You have wings?”  
  
Cas swallowed, glancing around nervously. “I do.”  
  
Something about the thought of Cas with wings spiked a thrill inside him. “I have got to see that.” He had not meant to say that out loud. Now that he thought about it, Cas had mentioned something about flying before. He had just been too distracted at the time to really think about it. Wings. He bit his lip, sitting back slightly as Cas gave him a look of surprise.  
  
The pair tore their stare apart, knowing everyone was watching them.  
  
“Cas, can you fly?” Sam asked.  
  
“No. Well...I was just learning when Gabriel sent me here. There are wards all over Lawrence so nephilim can’t fly just anywhere. But I’m too weak now to even feel my wings, let alone fly.”  
  
“Were you dreaming?” Dean asked, wondering what would cause him to use his wings accidentally.  
  
“No. Maybe. I don’t know...I can’t remember.” Cas rubbed at his hair, making it stick up more than it already was.  
  
After figuring nothing out, everyone went back to sleep as he and Sam took up sentry duty again. Dean kept a close eye on Cas. This land was beyond foreign. There were strange and damn-right scary sounding noises coming from the woods. Things creeping and sneaking around. Cas did not go back to sleep. He sat watching the fire for hours.  
  
Dean woke Charlie and Jo to take their turn watching camp so he and Sam could sleep.  
  
Dean poked a few sticks around, adding a few logs. He gave Cas an unsure glance. “You okay?”  
  
Cas nodded stoically.  
  
“You freaked out you’re gonna disappear?”  
  
Cas didn’t answer immediately, but nodded agreement after a few minutes.  
  
“You gotta sleep, man. You’ve been awake most of the night.” He reached over to pat Cas’ knee. He had dressed under his covers earlier. To Dean’s shock, Cas took his hand, squeezing it gently.   
  
“I’m afraid I’ll fly away or go to the plane where my wings are, and I’ll disappear, not knowing how to get back.”  
  
Dean glanced around camp. Sam was sleeping already. Bobby was still out. Charlie and Jo stood at the far end of camp, looking into the woods. He squeezed Cas’ hand back, giving him an encouraging grin. He stood up, getting his sleeping roll. He put it right next to Cas’, who watched him with wide eyes. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”  
  
Cas gave him a hopeful grin. “You need to sleep too.”  
  
“Oh, I’m gonna sleep.” Dean settled into his bedroll, laying his gun under his pillow. He pulled a piece of twine from his bag, the same twine he had used as Thursday’s leash on the ship. “I’m gonna tie you to me.”  
  
Cas raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I know it’s not very fancy, Your Highness, or whatever your title is.” Dean hated that he kept saying things like that. Ruining the connection the pair seemed to have. But when he got nervous, his mouth got stupid.  
  
“It’s, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son,” Cas said. Dead serious.  
  
Dean looked up from tying the twine around Cas’ wrist. Was he serious?  
  
“But you can call me Cas.” The corner of Cas’ mouth twitched and Dean could tell he was joking.  
  
“Dude!” Dean laughed. He shook his head, tying the other end of the twine around his own wrist. Sprites were so weird.  
  
Cas grinned harder. “I’m not sure this will work.”  
  
“Me either, Sparky. But you and me are getting some sleep.”  
  
Cas lay back down, watching every move he made.   
  
“If you go somewhere, I’ll know something is up. Or I’ll go somewhere with you. At least that way you won’t be alone.”  
  
Dean gave him a shrug as if none of it really mattered and he lay down. Cas turned toward him, still watching him intently.  
  
“Thank you, Dean.”  
  
Dean looked at him, a wave of heat sweeping down his body. Every time Cas said his name, something tugged at his insides. He wondered if Cas felt anything toward him. Why would a sprite be interested in him anyway? But the street kid in him didn’t care. He wanted to see if Cas was feeling anything.  
  
“You’re welcome. Castiel. Mage of Thursday. Angel’s son.” Dean let the title drop, watching as Cas’ eyes widened slightly with each word. Was it possible that a mage, a powerful sprite, was interested in him? Who would have ever thought a sprite could even be good looking? But...oh yeah. Cas was handsome. Especially his mouth. So inviting looking. Like it was quite capable and supple.  
  
“Night, Cas,” Dean grinned, seeing Cas smile before he turned his head and closed his eyes.  
  
“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas whispered back.   
  
He could feel Castiel’s head get closer bit by bit to his shoulder. Dean sucked in a breath when he felt Cas’ hand warm and solid next to his own.  
  
  
  
********************************  
  
  
  
Castiel stood in his stirrups, trying to see over the next ridge as he stretched his legs and back. Today was grueling. His body was tired and his mind was restless. He felt his grace strengthening every day. He could have cheered when Bobby said he had to stop for the night. They found a small clearing against a sheer rock wall.  
  
Castiel liked the safety of the solid wall to one side of camp. He walked along with Charlie as she put up hex bags and wards. They compared warding sigils in the dirt while the others took care of the horses.  
  
“Cas, you makin’ dinner?” Dean asked.  
  
“Yes.” He joined Dean at his saddlebag and they pulled out several items for him to reproduce, chop, and tonight, cook. “Did you bring flour?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, pulling out a metal tin.   
  
Castiel put the potato in the pot and stared at it. When he grinned, Dean looked inside. He chuckled, patting his shoulder. He had made six potatoes and they were all diced. He added a carrot. “Three carrots?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, chuckling again when three carrots appeared, chopped. Dean added the ham chunks and seasoning. Castiel put his hands together over the pot and Dean poured a small handful into his palm. They both grinned as water filled his hands, overflowing like a fountain to fill the pot. He added onion and mushrooms he had picked by a stream earlier that day.   
  
He put his hands on both sides of the pot, boiling it. He pulled his hands back, looking up at the huge grin on Dean and Charlie’s faces as they watched him.  
  
Everyone gathered around the fire as darkness settled over them. Dinner cooked in minutes, the broth thicker this time, more like a cream, than thin and clear. Bobby and Jo began dishing it out to everyone.  
  
“I brought my things to make a sigil,” Charlie said, taking a full bowl. “It was Dean’s idea and I think it would be awesome.”  
  
Jo nodded.  
  
“You want the six of us?” Sam asked, taking his full bowl.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean admitted, trying to fight a shy look off his face. “It’s a mission. I think it warrants something special.”   
  
Castiel’s skin flushed when Dean looked at him. Dean wanted to be able to find him in the veil. The thought warmed him so completely that tears stung the corners of his eyes and he had to look at his bowl of soup to gain some composure.  
  
“I thought sprites didn’t do sigils,” Bobby frowned.  
  
“I will,” Castiel blurted, his eyes jumping between Dean and Bobby. “I think it is a beautiful idea. And if it works...I would be very happy to see you all again.”  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
“When I’m done eating, I’ll start working on it. I already have a plan for the ingredients,” Charlie said.  
  
Castiel could barely contain his excitement. He was thrilled. His heart beat faster and he could not stop smiling. All the teachings about dissolving into the great nothing, crumbled. He could picture vast passages of hallways. And a door that belonged to him. A place he could go and be with these people in the afterlife. He would see Dean again. No matter what happened on this adventure, their time was not through. It gave him great hope and lightened his heart.  
  
When they all had their fill of soup, Castiel waved the dishes clean.  
  
“I am never traveling without you,” Bobby grinned.  
  
Charlie had pulled out a tray to work on and several small pots. She ground several ingredients, adding them to a thick, glass bottle. She lit three candles, warming the bottle only slightly. She muttered incantations quietly as she worked.  
  
Jo leaned over toward him slightly. “Every sigil is unique. She’s making this bottle just for us. If we want to save some for Mom and Ash, we can. Or Charlie drinks what remains, and it stays with us.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “What has she put in the bottle?”  
  
Jo shrugged. “I saw her grab butterfly wing, bone dust, mandrake, and king’s foil. Charcoal and ground amethyst, of course. I know there’s more than that in there though. Like I said, each batch is unique.”  
  
The candles flared and Charlie looked up with a grin. “I’m ready for blood.”  
  
“Blood?” Castiel asked, surprised.  
  
Dean knelt next to her. Charlie had a small bronze knife, cutting Dean’s palm quickly. Dean hissed but tipped his hand, letting blood drain into the bowl.  
  
“That’s enough,” Charlie nodded. Dean pulled his hand away, taking a bandage from Jo.  
  
“Wait,” Castiel said, getting to his feet quickly. He came around the group, taking Dean’s hand in his. With little more than a light touch and a flashing thought, Dean’s hand healed.  
  
Dean grinned. “Thanks, Cas!”  
  
Castiel nodded, blushing slightly, but not caring. They all had glowing faces in the firelight. He healed everyone’s cuts, none of them healing as quickly as Dean’s had. They assumed it was because Dean had been the first. Castiel suspected it had healed instantly because his drive to heal Dean was stronger.  
  
“Your turn,” Charlie grinned.  
  
Castiel held his hand out, frowning at the burning cut she administered smartly.  
  
“Sprite blood,” Charlie mused. “The properties in this stuff must be incredible.”  
  
Castiel could not argue with that. When she finished, he pulled his hand away, healing it.  
  
The two containers were combined in a tiny pot and heated over the fire. The potion was then poured into the glass jar. As Charlie heated the little bottle, the candles sputtered out. “It’s ready,” she grinned.  
  
They gathered around as Charlie pulled out an odd metal contraption shaped like an angled spoon, with a lever that led to a metal circle with a glass bottom. Dean held his forearm out. Charlie rested the circle of the contraption flat on Dean’s arm. She poured the blood mixture into the circle, filling it like a small puddle.  
  
“Ready?” She asked, looking up a Dean.  
  
“Ready.” Dean watched as Charlie squeezed the lever. The glass bottom slid away, dropping the blood mixture onto Dean’s skin. Dean winced only slightly as the mixture seemed to stir on his skin and sink in.  
  
The pair watched intently until Charlie pulled the contraption away. Dean grinned, holding his arm out. His new sigil was a circle that was almost closed, but instead continued inward, ending in a feather at the center.  
  
Castiel looked up at Dean. “Will mine look just like that?”  
  
“Yep,” Dean grinned. Castiel grinned back. He waited patiently, more anxious than he remembered being in a long time. He was so excited to be a part of something as special as this.  
  
Charlie rested the contraption, a vinculum she called it, snug on the skin of his forearm. “Ready? It’s going to burn.”  
  
“I’m ready,” Castiel grinned. The burn was nothing to dampen his excitement. The blood mixture dug into his skin with a burn, circling and sinking in. He waited, watching the pale skin of his arm. Several seconds went by and Charlie frowned.  
  
“Hm.”  
  
Castiel looked up at her, confused. “Where is it?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe sprites can’t -”  
  
A searing pain burned on his arm and white light flared in the shape of the sigil. Charlie pulled the vinculum away as they both watched in surprise. The light flared out and a black sigil matching the others remained. He laughed, feeling the connection to the group.  
  
Jo helped Charlie do hers while Castiel stepped aside, marveling at the mark on his creamy skin. It was black and perfect.  
  
“Looks good,” Dean grinned.  
  
Castiel smiled back at him, showing his arm to him for inspection. Dean took his arm in his hands, swiping his thumb across the fresh mark.  
  
“Now, when you greet one of us,” Dean explained, “you do this.” He turned, cupping his forearm in his hand, putting his thumb on his sigil. Castiel did the same, placing his thumb on Dean’s matching sigil.  
  
They looked up at each other, grinning.   
  
“It’s perfect,” Castiel said softly.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, letting his arm go.  
  
Castiel refrained from wanting to hug Dean. Wanting to rub his head against him. Wanting to greet him again, if only to touch his warm skin. It was quite difficult, but he contented himself with rubbing a thumb over the new sigil.  
  
They all settled into their bedrolls, Bobby and Sam taking the first watch.  
  
Castiel pulled the length of twine from the pocket of his coat. He pressed his mouth together, glancing at Dean nervously.  
  
Dean, catching the shy look, grinned, taking the twine. Without a word, he tied it around Cas’ wrist and Castiel tied it around Dean’s. He scooted down into his bed, curling close to Dean’s side.  
  
Dean turned on his side, facing him. “Sleep. I won’t let you get away.”  
  
Castiel grinned up at him. He snuggled in a little closer, relieved when Dean did not back away.  
  
To think...a nephilim protected by a human. He turned his smile toward his jacket folded up to be a pillow. If Gabriel saw him now, he would simply laugh. And all he could do was feel good about it.   
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
“Cas.”  
  
Castiel blinked awake. He looked up, realizing his head was in Dean’s lap. Oh dear. He must have been trying to get closer to Dean as he slept.  
  
“Don’t freak out,” Dean said quietly, running a hand down his side.  
  
Shock rippled through his tiny body. He jolted upright. He was a cat again!  
  
What happened? He meant to yell, but a meow came out as he scampered backwards off Dean’s lap.  
  
His heart thudded painfully as he looked at his black, furry legs. What had happened?!  
  
“Take it easy,” Dean said nervously, getting to his knees. “Don’t run away.”  
  
Run away? Where would he go? He meowed loudly.  
  
Sam was waking Charlie up. She came over, still rubbing her eyes as they went wide looking at him. “Shit.”  
  
Shit? Yes! This was shit. Why was he a cat?  
  
“Okay, okay, don’t freak out. I warned you when I broke the curse that you could have some...lingering side effects.”  
  
Don’t freak out? Cat! I’m a cat!  
  
Dean looked as freaked out as he felt. “What do we do, Charlie?” He demanded.  
  
“Well...um...” she gave Castiel a worried look. “I could reverse the curse again. Or we could wait for it to wear off. Is what happened last night? You thought he was gone, but maybe he was a cat in the blankets, and you didn’t see him?”  
  
Dean looked just as worried as before. “What -”  
  
Castiel’s body jolted. His muscles and bones shifted in a rush.  
  
Dean sighed.  
  
Castiel looked down at himself. He was naked and sitting on the end of Dean’s bedroll. He frowned hard, covering his privates.  
  
Everyone backed up, except Dean, whose feet he was sitting on. He pulled Castiel’s shirt out of his bedroll, handing it to him.  
  
Castiel snatched it, putting it on. Dean frowned at something.  
  
Castiel moved as quickly as he could to his blanket, putting his breeches on under the covers. He dropped his head onto his pillow when he tied them. “Wonderful.”  
  
“Hey, you’re still here. That’s a relief,” Dean mumbled.  
  
Castiel sat up, Charlie coming back over. “This might happen for a while. I have no idea. Missouri might be able to fix you better. Or it will wear off.” She frowned, giving Castiel a worried pat. “Or it will get worse. I’m just not sure. It’s tricky undoing another witch’s curse.”  
  
Castiel nodded his head uncomfortably. Charlie went back to her bed. Dean and Cas got up, taking watch so Sam and Bobby could sleep.  
  
They wandered in opposite directions, watching the woods. He could see a wolf sitting far off on the side of a hill, watching them. He glanced at Dean as he joined him. “Sorry.”  
  
“Cas...I couldn’t help but notice you have a big scar on your side.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Is that from the stitches I did?”  
  
“Yes.” He lifted his shirt, showing the red, puffy line that paralleled his ribs, went around his side, close to his spine.  
  
He inhaled sharply as Dean touched it. He remembered the werewolf’s claw as it sliced through him so swiftly. Dean looked up with a note of sadness. “Sorry that scarred you so bad.”  
  
Castiel felt touched by Dean’s solemn look. “I didn’t die.”  
  
Dean nodded, smiling softly.  
  
Castiel lowered his shirt. “It wasn’t your fault, Dean.”  
  
Dean swallowed, not accepting the excuse. “What happened to you at the compound? When you disappeared.”  
  
Castiel nodded, thinking back. “Campbell compound was warded against angels. Being a nephilim, part angel, part human, and being at such a vulnerable state, the wards were killing me.”  
  
“Shit. I had no idea,” Dean shook his head.  
  
“I know. Then, while you were out, that medic woman came back for me. She suspected I was carrying some sort of werewolf virus. She tried to put me in a burlap bag when I escaped. She was going to kill me.”  
  
“That bitch!” Dean almost yelled, looking angry. “I was afraid she would pull some shit like that!”  
  
Castiel smooshed him, hoping he had not woken the others.  
  
Dean shook his head, still fuming. “Wait ‘til I see her. She’ll be lucky if I don’t chop off her head AND all her hair!”  
  
Castiel had to grin at Dean’s protective anger. “I survived.”  
  
Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry that we left you alone. We shouldn’t have.”  
  
Castiel reassured him with a grin and a gentle squeeze to his arm. “I am fine. I survived. It was...torturous, getting through that gate. And then I waited there for you. I knew you were leaving.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “It’s a damn wonder you survived.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Dean...if I become trapped as a cat...”  
  
“That won’t happen,” Dean assured him, his hand landing firmly on Cas’ shoulder. “I would take you wherever I needed to go to get you back. Even Haven.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
Dean let his shoulder go, turning to listen to a sound in the dark woods. “Just stay with me and I’ll do whatever I can to get you better. You don’t belong here, Cas. On this mission. In this horrible place. You should be up in at  
  
Castiel frowned. “Dean, I feel more alive than I have felt my entire life! Haven is beautiful and clean. But it is cold and unmoving as well. I knew the moment I received mage status that I would not be staying in Haven. My heart lies...elsewhere.”  
  
Dean stared at him. “Not here. Not Purgatory.”  
  
“No,” Castiel whispered. “But this mission. I care very much about what happens to humans.”  
  
Dean gave him a nervous grin.  
  
“Particularly you,” Castiel finished, not sure he should really share that much.  
  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up and a cocky grin flitted across his face. “Yeah?”  
  
Castiel nodded solemnly. “Yes.”  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this week. I was traveling. I will post again on Saturday!  
> Hope you are enjoying this adventure!  
> Were you shocked to see kitty-Cas again? That spell really did a number on sweet Castiel.


	13. Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our group is moving deeper into Purgatory. Dean and Castiel grow even closer.

Chapter 13: Hell  


  
“This looks very unsafe,” Castiel voiced, not liking the ominous creak of boards under Jo’s horse’s hooves. They were crossing a long wooden bridge over a river far below.  
  
“It’s been here for over a hundred years,” Charlie encouraged, leading her horse to follow Jo.  
  
“I can see that,” Castiel muttered, eyeing the weathered rope sides, worn boards, and leaning anchors of the bridge.  
  
Dean looked as nervous as he felt. “There a way around this?” Dean yelled.  
  
“Not that I know of,” Charlie yelled back. “Come on!”  
  
Dean gave Castiel a worried squint.  
  
“Come on, Dean,” Sam called from behind them.  
  
“I’m at least waiting until they cross!” Dean snapped, glaring at his brother.  
  
Bobby gave him an amused grin.  
  
Castiel wished with all his worth that his wings would come back. All he felt was a mild prickle down his back. He let his breath out, panting slightly as Charlie and Jo exited the other side of the bridge.  
  
“Come on,” Dean muttered bitterly, kneeing Impala forward and onto the ancient wood.  
  
Cas followed several paces behind. The wood creaked ominously under Connie and his weight. She continued, pushing forth thoughts of fear, falling, and wavering trust in all people.   
  
Cas did not argue any of her feelings, merely pushing back thoughts of bravery and pride in her.  
  
This could not be a good idea. Apparently, Impala thought so too. She took off, scampering across the wood, making the bridge sway. Connie took quite the opposite approach, freezing when Impala took off.  
  
There, in the middle of the old bridge, she stood, haunches lowered and her head low and stretched forward.  
  
Dean turned a wide-eyed look at him. “Sorry! She just took off!”  
  
Castiel nodded fractionally, more concerned with the fear radiating from Connie.  
  
He huffed a laugh. “It’s too late to go back to Ellen now, brave lady.”  
  
Her disappointment and fear eventually waved into determination. She took a few tentative steps.  
  
Castiel could see the yellow-brown river of water below them. It would be a fall neither of them would survive. If the fall didn’t kill them, the putrid water would poison them. All the other rivers and streams they had come across were unpleasantly dirty or stagnant. But Leviathan waste polluted this river. The stench of sour liquorices steamed up from its curdling ebbs.  
  
“You can do it, Connie,” Castiel encouraged. The horse began walking faster, head still low, until she scampered the last few steps out the end of the bridge.  
  
Dean sighed, only to hold his breath again as Sam and Bobby began crossing.  
  
Once all six horses and their riders were on the same side of land, Dean turned an irritated look at Charlie. “Any more of these on our travels?”  
  
“Bridges?” She grinned. “Yes. But none as rickety as this one.”  
  
Dean shook his head, encouraging Impala onward.   
  
While Dean continued grousing his complaints to the group, Castiel focused his hearing. The sound of arguing, three voices, four. Metal clanging and horse hooves moving quickly.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel said low and urgent, both him and Charlie looking at hm. “I hear riders coming. Four at least.”  
  
Everyone’s attention moved to the path ahead. Dean came around him, putting Castiel on the edge of the road, the others staying closer together as they all moved ahead.   
  
They walked what seemed like a while before riders’ heads peaked over the trail on the hill ahead. Seven riders crested the hill. They wore mud-splattered riding gear. Their hair was long, grizzly, and unkempt. The one in the lead turned quickly, saying something to the others behind him. When he turned back, his eyes flashed yellow.  
  
“Werewolves,” Dean muttered.  
  
Their horses were lean and in serious need of grooming.  
  
“Where’s this pretty lot off to?” The front man leered.  
  
“Lincoln,” Bobby answered, not-too-kindly.  
  
The three men in front sneered. The woman behind them spit something brown on the ground, eyeing Charlie. “That’s Witch Bradbury,” she said, wiping her chin with her filthy sleeve.   
  
Castiel was impressed with the flat look of indifference Charlie maintained.  
  
“So it is,” a large man behind her grinned. His beard was bushy, with thick sideburns that ran right into his shaggy hair. He looked wolfy without even needing to change.  
  
The werewolves gave her a cursory nod, looking at the rest of them with disdain.  
  
Castiel could see Dean eyeing them back. He looked like he was ready to say something rude. Castiel kicked Dean’s foot with his own. Dean turned, looking at him with question. Castiel didn’t dare say anything. He had read that werewolves had excellent hearing.   
  
The two groups passed each other without incidence. Castiel sighed with relief.   
  
Ahead, after they crested the hill, Castiel was surprised to see three dead men to the side of the road. Stabbed by sword, from the size of the wounds.   
  
“Shifters,” Bobby mumbled, not stopping to inspect them.   
Castiel stopped to look closer, but Dean called him to keep moving. He found it disconcerting to leave dead bodies and not burn them. But he trusted Dean to know the correct protocol.  
  
This land was truly nefarious.  
  
Twenty minutes down the road, Dean rode close to his side. “We can’t get mixed up in anyone else’s business here, Cas.”  
  
Castiel thought back to the dead men. They weren’t human. But monsters deserved to burn at death too, didn’t they? He nodded his understanding, though he did not agree.  
  
Dean looked like he was going to say more, but he just kept riding. Humans were very different from his nephilim brethren. Death seemed so close at all times here. Whether from poor surroundings, illness, injury, or rash behavior, they all seemed on a fast track to the veil. Things moved much slower in Haven. Decisions and words were not taken lightly. It may be that this was due to better availability of food and necessities. It could be that it was a nephilim’s nature to think longer before jumping to conclusion or action.  
  
Maybe it was just Dean.  
  
Perhaps the shorter lives made them more frivolous with them. Nephilim had a long time to live with the decisions they made. And death meant death. An end. No meetings with friends or loved ones. “How old are you?” Castiel asked, surprised with his own candor.  
  
Dean smirked at him. “Twenty-four. Why?”  
  
Castiel looked at him for a long moment. Dean was in his prime. For humans, this seemed to mean starting a life of some sort. For nephilim, twenty-four meant moving to secondary school to further your education.  
  
“How old are you?” Dean asked, staring back, his curiosity seeming to grow.  
  
“I’m forty-eight.”  
  
“What?!” Dean asked, shock evident as he looked at him with disbelief. “How old are sprites when they...you do die of old age, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel smirked, finding Dean funny. “Sprites live to be around 130 years old. Not nearly as long as our ancestors.”  
  
“Huh,” Dean continued to stare at him. “So...you’re...an adult, right?”  
  
“Yes. I’m an adult. A young adult, but well past my pubescent period.”  
  
“Your what?” Dean asked.  
  
“Puberty, Dean,” Bobby snapped.  
  
Castiel and Dean both turned, realizing the other four were still right there with them. Sometimes, Castiel felt like he and Dean were alone, when they were not.  
  
Dean blushed slightly. “Got ya.”  
  
Castiel grinned down at Connie’s gold mane. Dean made him feel a lot of things he had never felt before. He could chalk a lot of it up to his time as a cat. But moments like this were just very...natural. Anna talked of such feelings. He was sure he had never experienced half of what she had talked about. He, like most Thursdays, moved at a slow, cautious pace. Especially with matters such as...feelings.  
  
He eyed Dean again, grinning at the casual, easy way he rode. Dean turned, watching him back with a smooth grin. He cocked one brow and smirked. “What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Castiel blushed, looking away.  
  
“So, you guys are basically the same age,” Sam chuckled.  
  
Castiel looked back at Dean. “Yes. I would agree with that.”  
  
“Wish I was in your shape,” Bobby mused. “I’m forty-nine and I look twice your age.”  
  
Castiel turned in his saddle, studying Bobby slightly. “You do.”  
  
“Gee thanks,” Bobby snickered, the others laughing as well.  
  
Castiel turned forward again, frowning. “I hear...drums.”  
  
“Drums?” Charlie repeated, coming to a stop. “Like...on the road?”  
  
Castiel listened, homing in on the sound. “Yes.”  
  
“Time to get off the road,” Charlie said urgently, scanning the woods. “Follow me.”  
  
They followed as she steered her horse up a bank, through brush, and behind a thicket of trees. Charlie dismounted, the others following her lead.   
  
“We have to keep the horses calm,” she said nervously.  
  
Castiel looked up at Connie. Her ears stood tall, pointing toward the direction the sound of the drums came from. Challenger neighed.  
  
Seeing the look of worry on Charlie’s face, he touched Connie’s forehead. She calmed instantly, falling asleep. He touched Challenger next, then the others.  
  
“That’s a new trick,” Dean muttered.  
  
“Yes, it is,” Castiel admitted. Gabriel was certainly right about grace working if you really wanted it to. He had not even needed to change chemistry levels or think about the animal’s brain anatomy at all. He simply thought ‘sleep’, and they were all sleeping.  
  
“You can wake them up, right?” Dean asked, looking slightly worried.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel answered immediately. Hopefully, that was true.  
  
They all listened as the beating drums came closer. They could hear chanting. They all crouched along the trees, watching the road.  
  
“What is this?” Bobby asked.  
  
“Demon army,” Charlie whispered. “Don’t talk. They employ wolves and witches as look-outs.”  
  
No one moved or said a word as men and women marched slowly by. Over a hundred demons, four by four, marched steadily. A bell tolled malevolently, drums keeping time, rolling and booming with the chant of a hundred demons. The very air in Castiel’s lungs froze as the mass of demonic soldiers passed them.  
  
Four men, spaced throughout the hoard, sang in a reedy, united timbre;  
  
“The king and his men stole the sheriff from his bed,  
And bound him in a dungeon.  
The land be ours and by the powers,  
Where we will, we’ll roam.”  
  
Drums set a booming, slow pace, echoing with their trudging steps as the hoard boomed back in a low, roaring chant,  
  
“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colors high.  
Heave ho, thieves and killers,  
Never shall we die.”  
  
Every twenty or so men, one carried a tall banner with a red flag. The black sigil on it looked like a W with an upside-down W on top of it. Each point ended in a circle. Castiel recognized it as a demonic emblem but could not remember to whom it belonged. Behind the banner men was something even more disturbing. Great iron collars circled necks of large, invisible creatures, thick chains rattling with their invisible steps. He strained his eyes harder. They were not invisible. Black, churning smoky outlines formed huge dogs. But there was no solid form to them. Castiel’s shock and fear hit a whole new level. The ground vibrated with the slow march and the air around them thrummed with loud drumbeats.  
  
“Yo ho, all together, hoist the colors high.  
Heave ho, thieves and killers,  
Never shall we die.”  
  
Again, the four demons sang,  
  
“The king and his men take over the land,  
And cull the weak and the ruined.  
The land be ours and by the powers,  
Where we will, we’ll roam.”  
  
Castiel exchanged a horrified look with Dean and Sam as the mass marched on. The chorus, chanted twice more, just as frightening as the first time.  
  
They listened as the four demons sang again,  
  
“We’ll cross the seas and burn their trees,  
Take their bones, destroy their homes.  
The land be ours and by the powers,  
Where we will, we’ll roam.”  
  
The slow, drilling chorus rang out again twice more.

“The sprites up top, the humans below,  
They’ll fall, they’ll bleed, they’ll be no more.  
The land be ours and by the powers,  
Where we will, we’ll roam.”

Chills surged hard through Castiel’s body. More chained, etherial creatures went by, barking out with snarls that made his blood run cold. As the haunting chant echoed through the land, they all held tight to whatever was near them.  
  
Castiel had no idea if he had grabbed Dean’s hand, or Dean had grabbed his, but he clung to it, nevertheless. Birds cawed ominously, flying, and circling the fading army.  
  
It was not until even Castiel had long since stopped hearing them, that any of them moved. Jo was shaking, Charlie pulling her into a hug.  
  
Bobby looked as stunned as Sam and Dean.  
  
Castiel wanted to go home.  
  
“Were they...” Dean croaked, clearing his throat, “were they talking about Dad? The king and his men stole the sheriff from his bed. That’s Dad, isn’t it?”  
  
“I would guess so,” Charlie whispered back.  
  
“They have him in a dungeon?” Sam worried aloud.  
  
“And they want to kill all the sprites,” Dean whispered hoarsely, squeezing Castiel’s hand possessively.  
  
“I have to warn them,” Castiel whispered back. “I have to reach Gabriel. Somehow.”  
  
“We better git yer Daddy before this all goes ta hell,” Bobby growled.  
  
Hell. That was a word rarely used anymore. God had destroyed hell when he destroyed Heaven and left them all here. It had been a pit for all the evil in the world. It was where the demons came from.  
  
Bobby was right. Hell had just marched past them.  
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
Dean stoked the fire, but his thoughts were stuck on the demon army he had seen today. How could they fight against anything that big? That...evil!   
  
“We head into Lincoln at first light,” Charlie said.

They had covered a lot of ground once they were back on the road. The horses were rejuvenated after their naps.  
  
Dean turned to look at her. “How’d those werewolves or whatever they were on the road, know who you are?”  
  
“I travel a lot. I’m one of only seventeen witches that can create sigils in Purgatory. And, I am a known supporter of being against this war that is brewing.”  
  
“What do the demons want?” Sam asked.  
  
“Everything,” Charlie scoffed. “They’re insatiable. They are the most powerful creatures here, next to high level witches, and they know it.”  
  
“Well, Lawrence doesn’t have anything like that army we saw today,” Dean said angrily. He was frustrated that something so huge could be happening and no one was talking about it. Why had their dad not warned people?  
  
“Haven has no such thing either. An army could be put together fairly quickly though.” Castiel paced nervously back and forth. “I have to reach Gabriel.”  
  
“How many more of those armies are there, Charlie?” Dean asked, fighting the shiver that ran through him.  
  
“At least two. I don’t really know though. And what were those chained things? I heard growling!”  
  
“No idea,” Dean looked to Bobby, who looked equally confused.  
  
“Hellhounds.” Cas stopped pacing, turning toward the group. “I think they were hellhounds. I thought they were all destroyed during the apocalypse. But I could see the slight outline of huge, black, vicious dogs. If they were invisible to you, then I am quite sure that is what they are.”  
  
Dean’s brain had shutdown at the first mention of ‘hellhound’. That was not even anything real! It was another creature from childhood stories that didn’t really exist! Like sprites! “How? Where did hellhounds come from? Why are demons so bent on ruling the whole friggin’ planet?”  
  
“We know some of the main demon players, the ones getting everyone stirred up,” Jo went on. “It’s Azazel, Alastair, and the Leviathan are backing them up too, Dick Roman. They used to go all over Purgatory stirring up trouble. My mom would kick them out of the Roadhouse as soon as they stepped in the door.”  
  
“Enough demons followed them to make this a real problem,” Charlie added.  
  
“A real problem?” Sam snapped. “We’re in the middle of a fucking war zone!”  
  
Charlie nodded. “I told you.”  
  
She had. She had told them. But it never sank in until that drumming, demonic army with hellhounds walked past them.   
  
“Whose banner did we see today?” Castiel asked.  
  
“That was the mark of Azazel,” Bobby said with a haunted look.  
  
Charlie nodded. “The only head demon not on board is Crowley, a demon from Lawrence.”  
  
“We’re familiar with Crowley,” Bobby said reluctantly.  
  
The name alone made Dean sick to his stomach. Fear twisted his gut. He caught Cas looking at him with a haunted look in his eyes. Shit. Had he told the cat about his deal? He wracked his brain trying to remember. He had not come out and said it. But he might have figured it out. And now Cas could talk about it. That was the last thing he wanted! It would ruin Sam and Bobby’s focus for sure.  
  
Cas held his gaze with sorrow shaping his brow. He looked down, going back to his pacing. Dean let his breath out in slow relief.  
  
“Crowley has a pretty sweet set-up in Lawrence. Makes sense he wouldn’t want anything changing.” Bobby reasoned.  
  
“I’ll take your word for it. All I heard was that he won’t play ball with Alastair, Azazel, or Dick. And they give him shit for ‘not being a real demon’, since he lives in Lawrence.”  
  
“Guess he ain’t all bad after all,” Bobby smirked.  
  
Cas gave Bobby a cold glare. Dean, not wanting his secret revealed, changed the subject. “I’ll take first watch. You guys should get some sleep.”  
  
“I might never sleep again,” Bobby muttered, moving to spread out his bedroll.  
  
Bobby was the first one asleep. Charlie and Jo next. As Dean sat, scanning the woods, he knew Sam was tossing and turning. Cas patrolled the far end of camp silently. He had reported several creatures trying to make their way into camp. A huge snake, some foxes that looked too big to be foxes, and a curious cat roaming nearby.  
  
Dean hadn’t seen shit.  
  
Cas joined him eventually, sitting on the fallen tree next to him, where he sat, watching the woods.  
  
They said nothing for a long time.  
  
“Dean,” Cas finally whispered.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean snapped.  
  
“We are going to talk about it,” Cas hissed back. “That night at Rufus Turner’s house, you asked me if I made a deal with a demon to end up as a cat. Dean, you made a deal with Crowley, didn’t you? How can we get you out of it?”  
  
Dean swallowed the bile in his throat. “We can’t. I made the deal. It’s done. You can’t see it now, but the contract is etched all over my freakin’ body!”  
  
Cas studied him in the dark. “If my grace was not so damaged, I probably would have seen the contract for myself.” His brow furrowed in disappointment in himself and worry. “What exactly was the deal?”  
  
Dean sat there for a long time. He felt like admitting it out loud was as good as signing that contract again.  
  
“Dean,” Cas insisted, a bit louder this time.  
  
Dean glared at him, looking over his shoulder to be sure the others were all still sleeping. “I got us all passage from Lawrence to Freeland then from Freeland to Purgatory. And back.”  
  
“At what cost?”  
  
Dean stared hard into the nearby thicket of trees. He did not want to say.  
  
“Dean,” Cas whispered.  
  
Dean swallowed hard, staring hard at the nearest tree, its trunk thick with moss. “Ten more years to live. And then he gets my soul.”  
  
At the engulfing silence, Dean turned to look at Cas. He wished he hadn’t. The sprite looked absolutely horrified.  
  
Cas grabbed his forearm, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Dean. We must get you out of it. I...I will find a way.”  
  
Dean huffed what was supposed to be a laugh, but it came out more a bitter cry. “Good luck with that.”  
  
“Maybe Charlie knows something.”  
  
“No! We can’t tell her. Not until we have my dad back anyway. We gotta stay focused. We get this knife in Lincoln tomorrow and then we haul ass to Dad. When he’s out of the dungeon...or whatever they’ve done to him...then maybe...”  
  
Cas looked frustrated and angry. “You are willing to fight so hard for your dad. You risk your own life like it’s meaningless!” Determination settled onto his face as his chin lowered and his eyes pinned his. “I will not let Crowley have you. Not any part of you.”  
  
Some of the fireball that had become his stomach, dampened. He nodded, unable to look away from his blue eyes. Cas was a sprite. Could he really help? “I don’t wanna die, Cas. I don’t wanna lose my...soul to that bastard. I just...didn’t know what else to do!”  
  
“I know,” Cas nodded. The tight grip on his arm loosened and his hand slid down to hold Dean’s. “I...I’m going to fix this. I promise.”  
  
Dean’s heart lightened and hope seeped in. Tears damn near came to his eyes. All he could do was nod back. “Okay, Cas.”  
  
Dean had never considered himself the type of guy to sit around holding hands with someone. But Cas was like an anchor of strength and courage.  
  
They sat there for quite some time; hands clasped tightly. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to lose his soul. He needed help. He was in so far over his head. Every time the thoughts circled back, his grip would tighten, and Cas would grip his hand back.  
  
  
When Sam and Bobby took watch, Dean and Cas went to sleep almost immediately. Dean had pulled the twine out of his pocket and looked at Cas as he lay next to him. Their eyes met and Dean put the twine away. He lay down, Cas giving him an uncertain look. Dean just grinned and took his hand. The smile that spread on Cas’ face was like a real ray of fucking sunshine. Dean grinned back, holding his hand tight. “Night, Cas.”  
  
“Goodnight, Dean.”  
  
  
**************************  
  
  
Dean felt something move. Rain was drizzling on him, making him feel soggy. His eyes popped open and he immediately reached for Cas’ hand. Groping and finding nothing, he sat up.   
  
“Shit.”  
  
Cas lay sound asleep. As a cat.  
  
Dean sighed. This sprite was a mess. How was he really going to help him? He laid his hand on the cat’s side. “Cas.”  
  
The blue eyes that met his were the ones he was now so familiar with.  
  
“Hey, you uh...”  
  
The cat jolted, seeing his paws. He turned in a circle and sat down looking quite miffed. He shook the dusting of rain off his fur.  
  
“You’ll change back,” Dean whispered, laying his head back down sleepily. “It’ll be okay, man.”  
  
The cat meowed plaintively, his little head dropping in obvious frustration.  
  
All Dean could do was half-smile. “Maybe being a cat isn’t so bad.”  
  
Cas glared at him.  
  
“Okay! Sorry,” he chuckled. “Come on. It’ll go away.”  
  
Cas gave him a studying look. He stood up, taking a tentative step toward him. Dean, not sure, but wanting to reassure him, lifted his arm. Cas took another tentative step.   
  
“Come ‘ere,” Dean whispered. For all this sprite’s problems, he continued to put him first. He grinned as the cat stepped inside his bedroll, curling up to his chest. The fur of his head tickled Dean’s chin. He was going to help Cas get home. No matter what it took. The likelihood of them saving his soul was a long shot. But he could help Cas get home.  
  
He rubbed the cat’s back, having missed the warm bundle at night. He grinned when he heard Cas purring. He pulled his cover partially over his head to block the drizzling rain from making either of them wet. Everything was shitty outside the blanket. But inside, he took what peace he could get from the simple act of petting the cat and hearing him purr.  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
Dean woke to a heavy weight along one side. His thumb slid across smooth, warm skin. He knew even before he opened his eyes that Cas was laying on him and he was no longer a cat. He opened his eyes, blinking and adjusting to the dim light of dawn creeping into the sky, giving it an inky, purple hue. It had stopped raining, but clouds still blocked the stars. His hand slid along the skin of Cas’ back as he tipped his head down. All he could see was black hair nestled against his chest, but it was Cas’ hair, not cat fur.   
  
Charlie and Jo were sitting on the fallen tree, watching the woods quietly. They had to have noticed, along with Sam and Bobby, that he was sleeping with Cas.   
  
He didn’t care. This...sprite...was really growing on him.   
  
He could feel a stone under his shoulder blade, digging in through his sleeping roll. He shifted slightly, trying not to disturb the man curled around him. The naked man curled around him. He licked his dry lips, shifting Cas a tiny bit to bring back some circulation to his tingling fingers. Now, able to move his arm better, he watched as he brushed his hand through Cas’ hair. It was so soft. It seemed like the softest thing he had ever felt. Grinning, he carded his fingers through it again.  
  
Cas shifted slightly, his head tipping up. Dean moved the blanket off his face, realizing Cas needed air. Part of him was sad to see Cas waking up, knowing he would get a shock to find himself here. That he may jump and squirm away.  
  
Instead, he felt Cas’ body wake up slowly. One leg shifted, then the other. A hand slid off his chest only to return slow and steady. He could feel Cas’ head tuck down again, then back up, nuzzling into his chest.  
  
Dean grinned, remembering Cas had said he still had the urge to rub his head against him at times. Dean couldn’t help but rub across his shoulder, his hand flattening along the curve of it. Cas’ body went still. His head tipped up and their eyes met.  
  
Wide, blue eyes. “Oh...sorry.”  
  
Dean grinned slowly, not wanting him to jump away. His thumb swept along Cas’ shoulder instead, his hand pressing ever so slightly to invite him to stay.   
  
Cas’ eyes gave everything away. His face tended to be stoic. But Dean could read him better every day. He was going to ask him a question but didn’t. His initial instinct to pull back, paused. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.   
  
Not wanting him to ask or assume he should do anything, Dean let his own head rest back again. “We only have a little longer to lay here. Then we’ll be up.”  
  
Unable to not look, he tipped his head down again, catching Cas grin softly as he let his head rest again. His hand slid more timidly along Dean’s side before stopping. Dean kept up a litany of gentle swiping with his thumb.  
  
He didn’t want to talk about what was happening. He just wanted whatever happened to happen. Too many words made the situation sound as impossible as it was. He was in bed with a naked sprite. A sprite. A Mage of Thursday. Any minute now, they needed to get up to pack up camp and march into Lincoln to steal a demon-killing blade from a town full of demons and kitsune. Then quickly move on to find his father and rescue him.  
  
Yeah. That was all way too overwhelming.  
  
He shut the thoughts down, preferring the tranquility of running his hand down Castiel’s smooth skin. He was thankful he had gone to bed with his breeches on. Though he could feel Cas against his legs, there was still mystery to what pressed against what.  
  
He wondered, as the sky edged from purple to reddish orange, what having sex with a sprite would be like. His fingers curled against Cas’ skin, scratching softly. He felt Cas’ breathing quicken slightly.  
  
He grinned. He just might find out.  
  
That is, if he survived long enough.  
  
He heard noise next to him and turned his head. Sam was getting up. He caught Dean’s eye, lifting his eyebrow in a mix of ‘holy shit, bro’, and ‘what happened?’.  
  
Dean grinned, looking away to stare up at the sky. He could feel Cas’ hand tighten on his side. He knew whatever this was that had happened last night was about to be over too.  
  
Bobby began grumbling, getting up and packing his things. The others began talking softly around them. Cas shifted again and Dean took the opportunity to slide down just a bit further and move onto his side, pulling Cas in. He wanted to continue with this moment they were having. Mission be damned. He saw the questioning look on Cas’ face as he moved so they were nose to nose.   
  
“Just stay here,” he whispered, watching Cas’ face relax, leaving only curiosity rather than worry along his fine features.  
  
“They’ll leave,” Cas said quietly, his eyes drifting down to watch Dean’s mouth.  
  
He grinned, knowing exactly what that meant. He couldn’t quit staring at Cas’ mouth either, wondering just what it would feel like against his. He felt a soft kick to his leg and looked up to see Sam standing over him.  
  
“We’re heading down the road.” He glanced at Cas with an amused smirk to his grin. “We’ll walk slow.”  
  
“Yeah, alright,” Dean answered, laying his head back down.  
  
He heard Sam walk away and then the quiet departure of four horses. He lifted his hand to Cas’ chin, rubbing his thumb lightly along his chin and jaw. “You sleep good?”  
  
Cas grinned. “I did.”  
  
Dean pulled himself up onto his elbow, looking down at Cas, a mage, and a powerful one at that. Laying in the crook of his arm, he looked as normal as a regular guy. He had no idea about Cas’ customs or personal history. He had no idea what kissing a sprite would do. But he knew he wanted to.  
  
Cas looked up at him with a breathless look of hope on his face. Dean grinned a little more, feeling very right about what he was going to do. He leaned down, closing his eyes as Cas’ closed. Their lips met, warm and soft. He felt Cas’ hand reach up, his fingers curling into the back of his short hair. Dean angled just a bit more, kissing him longer.  
  
He pulled up, watching Cas’ face for signs of pleasure or panic or worry. All that greeted him were two blue eyes and a bashful grin.  
  
“Dean...”  
  
Dean licked his lips, hoping he had not just screwed this up. “Yeah?”  
  
Cas grinned anew. “Do that again,” he whispered.  
  
Dean chuckled. He leaned down again, kissing him. When Cas opened his mouth, Dean pressed his tongue forward, groaning with want. He gripped Cas by his hair and his jaw, Cas pressing him impossibly closer. The kiss ebbed to something more patient, ramping again to more needy before the pair separated.  
  
Cas looked away, blushing in the growing morning light. He bit his lip, turning back to Dean. “We should go.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean agreed reluctantly. He extricated himself from the bedroll carefully, to keep Castiel’s nakedness covered. Once he was out of the blanket, he turned, swinging his leg over Cas, boxing him in to the ground. “I’m gonna go ready the horses so you can get dressed.”  
  
Cas grinned, covering his eyes with his arm, a laugh brimming over, warm and rumbly.  
  
Dean pulled his hand away, kissing him again a bit more playfully this time. Cas’ hands ran up his sides, then back down, settling on his hips with a gentle squeeze. “Or we could stay here,” Dean grinned against his mouth.  
  
“I wish,” Cas said back softly. A sober look passed between them. They were in no place or time for such things.  
  
Dean kissed him one last time, then got to his feet, walking over to the horses. The others had saddled the horses for them. He stepped aside, peeing in some shrubs, and wondering if what he had just done was as outlandish as it felt. With a grin, he tied his breeches closed and decided his life was entirely too short to give a damn.

  
********************************************  
  
  
No one said a word about Dean or him joining the group late. They had indeed walked slowly to give them time to catch up.  
  
“Now that we’re all here,” Bobby smirked, “what’s the plan?”  
  
Charlie turned in her saddle. “Do you have any idea where this knife is?”  
  
Dean and Sam shook their heads.   
  
“I’m guessing it’s heavily protected. My grandfather wouldn’t come get it, even though he knows it’s in Lincoln,” Dean added.  
  
“So, does this town have a boss or sheriff of some sort? A main house or building they would hide something important in?” Sam asked.  
  
Charlie frowned. “I don’t hang around these places long. I know Lincoln is run by demons, but I have no idea who.”  
  
“We go to a bar and start asking questions,” Dean suggested.  
  
Charlie’s face lit up. “We could go to the trade station. Every big town has a trade station. It’s where out-of-towners go to trade, sell, or buy things. It’s kinda the main hub. We should be able to find out something.”  
  
“It’s a long-shot,” Bobby sighed. “But we knew it would be.”  
  
They rode hard for a few miles. Castiel enjoyed the quicker pace. It felt good to finally be getting somewhere. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had been at the Campbells, learning about the knife. They had finally made it.  
  
They slowed to a walk, letting the horses catch their breath before they entered town. He allowed himself a moment to truly think about what had happened last night and this morning. He knew very well when he got into bed with Dean that he would wake up like he did. But the need to be near him felt stronger than any pull he had ever had toward someone. Never had he felt so drawn. And by a human. A male human. While this was of no consequence to anyone else, it felt like a huge step to him. Of course he felt attraction to men. Most men did. But Mages had breeding responsibilities. If Dean were to be his mate, there was a lot to discuss. But first, they needed to survive the task ahead.   
  
  



	14. Lincoln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the demon-killing knife is at hand. Let’s see how our group works as a team.

Chapter 14: Lincoln  
  
  
  
Lincoln was a strange town. The sky was Purgatory’s typical gloomy gray, with the thick stench of sulfur in the air. People lurked along buildings, slunk in the shadows, or roamed in loud, bawdy groups. The streets were hard-packed dirt, not turning to mud like the trails had, after the rain last night. The houses were wooden, with small porches that led out onto the streets. It was not as busy as Lebanon or the towns he had seen along the stops on the train they had ridden. But there was industry here. Like Stockville, the people he passed all looked human. All of them stunk of sulfur.  
  
They followed Charlie to a trade station. A large building near the center of town where people came to buy, sell, or trade goods. Charlie had warned them that some of the ‘goods’ might be humans. She said this used to be a ‘black market’ practice. But now they did it regularly. Demons claimed Purgatory WAS the black market. That the country was theirs, and demons needed new vessels. It was what had finally stirred Charlie into a more active role against the demons.  
  
Of course the act of humans as produce angered Dean, Sam, and Bobby. Jo and Charlie were already familiar with the trade and loathed it. He couldn’t blame them. It was a horrific notion. When Bobby compared it to sprites taking people for breeding, Castiel had to argue otherwise. The humans who lived, and yes, bred, in Haven were well adored and respected, and able to leave if they wanted. They cherished them for giving them life. There was no ‘using them as vessels’ or eating them. It was only moments like those that made Castiel feel like he was not one of the group. Dean had not said a word. He only listened. That was last night as they were eating dinner. Before they had kissed.

Castiel felt a blush come to his cheeks just remembering it. They had kissed. And it had been...amazing. He had woken up so frustrated. So homesick. Wet. Miserable. Discouraged that he kept turning into a cat. All he wanted was a moment of closeness with Dean like they had before. He wanted it so bad that he wanted to scream. But all he did was take a step toward Dean, who lay there so tired and understanding. It had been a bit of a shock that Dean was that accepting.  
  
And he had taken another step.  
  
It still made shivers run down Castiel’s arms to remember waking up in Dean’s bed. All his fear had evaporated with one simple tilt of his mouth. A grin.  
  
Castiel knew he was entering an unfair relationship. Dean was a man. If he made it back to Haven as Mage of Thursday...would Dean come with him? Would he give up a life in Lawrence for a life in Haven? Or would he give Castiel up? Would he tolerate Cas breeding and stay as his mistress? That thought almost made him laugh out loud. No, that would not be happening. But it truly was no laughing matter. If Castiel did not have children, it would be as if he was wasting his level of grace for the next generation. It would not be well received within his legion. It only left one option in that case; he or Dean would become the one to carry the children. It had happened in the past when nephilim were much more angel-like. But would Dean be willing? He needed to research the process of changing a man’s anatomy to carry a child. He needed to go home. His legion was probably wondering where he was. And where was Gabriel? Did he have more plans for him?  
  
He pushed the thoughts away as they walked through Lincoln. He had more immediate things to concern himself with.   
  
And the benefits of their morning kiss outweighed any possible future problems. His grace thrummed steadier than it had since his arrival in Lawrence. He made a tree on the way into town blossom with ripe apples. Dean had caught the test of his skills, giving Cas a wide grin.  
  
“Good job, sparky,” Dean had smirked.  
  
Castiel answered that ridiculous nickname with a full flame bursting from his palm. It would have been more impressive had it not scared Connie and sent her into a nervous canter.  
  
They had laughed, but all of them were eager to see his powers were returning.  
  
As he followed Charlie and Jo through Lincoln, he could feel the presence of his wings for the first time in a long time. He did not explore the abilities with them. If a flame had scared Connie, sprouting wings might send her into a wild, galloping panic.  
  
Charlie dismounted in front of the large trade station. They all followed suit. “Someone has to stay with the horses,” she said quietly.  
  
Dean gave him a guilty look. Castiel sighed.  
  
He came around Impala’s rear end to talk to him. “Cas. You’d be the best one. Only you can control six horses at one time. And keep them calm.” Sam came around the other side.  
  
“My powers are returning! I can help. I can put the horses to sleep. No one will be able to steal them if they won’t move.”  
  
Sam nodded. “It’s the kitsune I’m worried about. They eat brains.”  
  
Castiel frowned. He disliked not knowing what was happening. But the horses were important. “Fine.”

  
  
****************************  
  
  
Dean almost grinned at the thought of Cas stewing outside, getting bitchy. The only reason he grinned was the thoughts of how he could cheer him up at camp tonight.  
  
“Your head in this?” Bobby asked quietly.   
  
“What? Yeah! I’m good, Bobby.”  
  
Bobby rolled his eyes but followed him around the vendor stalls.   
  
The plan was simple. Split up and find out where the blade was...and be quick about it.  
  
They bought two pints of beer at a vendor stall and stood along a counter, watching the crowd. Bobby rolled one shoulder, his eyes moving quickly around the crowded building. A pang of guilt hit Dean for dragging Bobby into this mess. The poor guy should be relaxing at home, whittling toys to bring Adam for Winter Holiday. Instead, he was sleeping on the hard ground and risking his life to cover his and Sam’s asses.  
  
“Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should have gotten you involved in this.”   
  
“Nonsense. Yer daddy needs help.”  
  
Dean chuckled softly. “Yeah, but last time you saw him, you did threaten to blast him full of buck-shot. Cocked the shotgun and everything.”  
  
“Yeah, well, what can I say. John just has that effect on people.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess he does.”  
  
“All that matters is we get him back.” Bobby pulled a flask from his jacket. “Here ya go.”  
  
“What is this? Holy water?” Dean asked, taking it.  
  
“Whiskey.” He pulled out a second flask. “This one’s holy water.”  
  
Dean grinned, taking a swig of whiskey. It burned his throat and brewed hot in his belly. “Damn, Bobby. That’s some wicked stuff.” He handed it back, Bobby taking a drink and making a face. He tucked the flask away.   
  
Sam found them, glaring at them for drinking on the job. “I just heard some people talking about who’s in charge here. The demon, Azazel.”  
  
Dean was shocked.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, leaning in a little closer. “He’s out of town. It seems, he does that a lot lately. But there’s another demon here in charge when he’s away. Her name’s Meg.”  
  
“Damn, boy. You work fast!” Bobby huffed, finishing his beer quickly.  
  
“Dad mentioned a Meg before. Do we know where Meg is?” Dean asked, knowing that was a bit much to wish for.  
  
“Two streets over, in a white, three-story house.”  
  
“Wow. Sam you’re makin’ this easy.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I was standing in line for pie and -”  
  
“There’s pie?” Dean stood on tiptoe, scanning the rows. “Where?”  
  
Bobby smacked him on the back of the head. “Round up Charlie and Jo. Help Cas bring the horses that way. Dean and I’ll get a head start, scope things out.”  
  
Sam nodded, heading up one of the aisles.  
  
“And get me some pie!” Dean yelled.  
  
Sam glanced back but did not indicate he heard him or would do it.   
  
“Sam! Pie!”  
  
“Come on, ya knucklehead,” Bobby grinned.  
  
After walking several blocks, they found the house. Without a word, they went around the block, coming between houses behind it, cutting through a courtyard and inside a back door.  
  
It was a public house, like the one he lived in. People bustled busily around the kitchen, taking no notice of them. He and Bobby skirted off to the side, staying out of sight.  
  
“This ain’t gonna work,” Bobby whispered. “We don’t even know which one she is.”  
  
Dean bit his lip, glancing around. Before he could come up with a plan, Bobby made one for him. He turned and saw Bobby walk into the kitchen.  
  
“One of you wanna direct me to Meg.”  
  
Dean clunked his head against the wall he was near. Dammit, Bobby.  
  
After some initial freaking out, two demons took him through the other kitchen door. Bobby kept saying he had an appointment with her, but they didn’t seem to be buying it.  
  
Dean snuck out the back door, heading back to the trade station. He met Sam, Cas, Charlie, and Jo walking the horses up the street. He relaxed a bit, seeing they were all still safe.  
  
“Where’s Bobby?” Sam asked.  
  
“Bobby dove in head-first and waltzed in that house, tellin’ them he had an appointment with Meg.”  
  
They all looked rightfully worried with such a plan.   
  
“Was that wise?” Cas said in astonishment.

“No!” Charlie said in shock as Jo and Dean shook their heads.

“I need a distraction,” Dean said, trying to put together a plan quickly. “Something to clear that house enough to give me a fighting chance.”  
  
They all stood there a moment.  
  
“I have an idea,” Charlie nodded. “Give me ten minutes. It’ll work.”  
  
Dean nodded. “I’m goin’ back to the house. Sam, you’re with me. Cas, stay with the horses.”  
  
“Jo can come with me,” Charlie added. “I might need a hand.”  
  
“Be careful,” Dean nodded.  
  
“Dean,” Cas argued. “I can help!”  
  
“I know, Cas. But somebody gets stuck with the horses. And that’s you.”  
  
Cas looked pissed, but Dean felt good about it. He gave him a small grin before taking off with Sam.  
  
They waited for several minutes between two buildings, when a loud boom rocked the ground. Demons ran from the house to investigate.  
  
“Damn, Charlie!” Dean muttered.  
  
He and Sam quickly made their way into the house and through the deserted kitchen. They crept down the empty hall, peeking into rooms. At the stairs, they went up quickly. In the hall, they did the same, peeking into room after room.   
  
Dean leaned into a bedroom, when the door slammed, crushing his shoulders in the doorframe. He dropped the holy water, huffing at the crushing pressure. The door opened and he fell to the floor. A man stood over him, raising a stake to drive it through his chest.  
  
“Not a vamp!” Dean yelled.  
  
The man hesitated. Sam flew through the door, tackling the other man to the floor. Dean scrambled to his feet as Sam pinned the stranger down.  
  
“Hold ‘im!” Dean yelled, pouring holy water on the man’s face.  
  
He sputtered, coughed and...nothing happened.  
  
Sam looked confused. “Are you a hunter?”  
  
“He is.”  
  
Dean, Sam, and the man on the floor turned to look at the doorway, where Bobby stood with a woman.  
  
“Bobby!” Dean and Sam exclaimed.   
  
“Hey Bobby!” The man on the floor grinned.  
  
Sam got off him.  
  
“Isaac. Good ta see ya,” Bobby nodded. “Tamara found me down in the basement.”  
  
The man chuckled, getting to his feet. “Of course she did.”  
  
“Friends of yours?” Dean asked, feeling lost.  
  
“Yeah. Tamara and Isaac are old hunting buddies of mine.”  
  
“Nice ta meet ya,” Dean barely smiled, rubbing his shoulder. “You hit like a fucking train, by the way.”  
  
Isaac grinned, stepping past him to shake Bobby’s hand. “Meg will be back soon, I’m sure. Let’s get ready.”  
  
They went down to the basement, drawing a devil’s trap on the ceiling. Bobby got back in the chair the demons had him tied to before Tamara freed him. “She’s the thin blonde. And she’s a real smart-ass.”  
  
They had just hidden by cabinets and boxes, when the door opened with a grating squeak.  
  
A thin, blonde woman walked into the room with a sneer on her face. Another man came in behind her, closing the door with a thud. She circled Bobby. “Right where I left you,” she said in a sultry tease.  
  
“Funny, you’re right where I want you to be,” Bobby grinned. He bolted from the chair the second she looked up at the ceiling.  
  
“How the -”  
  
Isaac and Tamara were quick and brutal, staking the other demon to the floor.   
  
The stake was of Paolo Alto wood, Bobby explained. Dean had heard of it, but never seen it used. The sacred wood held the demon to the vessel it was in, knocking the demon out until they could recite an exorcism to expel it.  
  
Meg was a real bitch. There were no two ways about it. Sam and Dean tackled her into the chair, tying her in tight. Isaac drove a stake into her, trapping the demon even further. It might have been overkill to restrain her in the trap, but it made Dean feel better. They started questioning her, but she was a complete pain in the ass. First, she swore John was dead. Going on about how he screamed and cried while the demons killed him. She acted like a knife that killed demons was a ridiculous myth.   
  
“I think she’s lying,” Dean said with a lot more bravado than he felt. He yanked the stake out of her, smirking as she winced and spit blood on the floor.   
  
“Me too,” Sam and Bobby said just as confidently.  
  
“Guess we’ll just gank her,” Dean shrugged. “Read it, Sammy.”  
  
Sam opened their dad’s journal to an exorcism and began reading it. Meg fought the urge to, what looked like, puke the demon out. Sam stopped. “Where is he?!” Dean yelled.  
  
She panted, her head hanging as she glared at him while he paced back and forth.   
  
“Nothing to say?” Dean grinned. “Carry on, Sam.”  
  
Sam began again.  
  
The chair they tied Meg to, violently slid side to side in the trap of the circle, as Meg huffed, screamed, and shivered from the words.  
  
“Alright!” She screamed. “He’s with Azazel! Azazel took him! He’s in a warehouse...but I don’t know where. Azazel moves around a lot.”  
  
Dean threw holy water on her, eliciting a slew of swear words as her skin disintegrated and smoke rose, filling the room with a disgusting stench.  
  
“Where is he!” Dean demanded again. “Where’s the knife!”  
  
“That’s everything. That’s all I know.” Meg panted in the chair. She looked spent and utterly defeated.  
  
“Finish it, Sam.”  
  
Sam gave him a worried look. “Dean, maybe we can use her.”  
  
Dean clenched his fists tighter. He didn’t have time for this shit. “She’s a demon, Sam! She doesn’t know any more.”  
  
“She might!”  
  
“She’s lying!”  
  
Sam gave Meg a pitying look. “Dean...”  
  
“You’re going to kill her,” Bobby warned. “The human. The body. Who knows how long she’s been in that body?”  
  
“Listen to me. We are gonna put her out of her misery. Sam. Finish it.”  
  
Sam began reading again.   
  
“NO!!! You said you’d let me go!” Meg screamed.  
  
“I lied!” Dean yelled back as Sam read on.   
  
Meg twitched, moaned, screamed. Sam read on. Finally, amongst screams, black smoke billowed from her mouth, straight up into the devil’s trap. The room trembled around them until the smoke was gone.  
  
Meg’s head dropped limply, and blood ran from her nose.  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Bobby looked slightly shell-shocked.  
  
A tiny moan and gurgle came from Meg.  
  
“She’s alive!” Sam ran over to her, Dean pulled out his knife, cutting the ropes. Sam eased her onto the floor.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dean asked, taking her flailing hand.   
  
“It’s been a year,” she whispered.  
  
“What?” Sam asked.  
  
“I was awake for some of it,” she said through broken, shallow gasps. “I couldn’t move my own body. The things she did...”  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam assured her, cradling her shoulders to help her sit upright.   
  
“Get help!” Dean yelled.  
  
Bobby gave him a level look. He was not going to get help.  
  
Dean felt shocked at first. He looked back down at the woman. She was dying. Her hand’s tight grip was losing strength.  
  
“Where’s the demon-killing knife?” Dean asked.  
  
“Dean!” Sam balked.  
  
“It’s here. The green cabinet...it moves.” She gasped and coughed, crying out in pain.  
  
“Where’s John?” Bobby asked.  
  
She gasped from pain, squeezing Dean’s hand, and grappled to hold onto Sam’s jacket. “The colt.”  
  
“Where?” Bobby asked.  
  
Meg gasped. “Take the Colt. It’ll kill Azazel.”  
  
“The what?” Dean asked, giving Bobby a frantic questioning look.  
  
Bobby was confused too. “Where is the sheriff from Lawrence?” He barked.  
  
“J...” she coughed, crying out as tears ran down her face. “Lisbit.” She coughed, panting hard. “Elizabethville.”  
  
“Where in Elizabethville?” Dean demanded, feeling her hand go limp. Her chest slowed its rapid rise and fall. She looked up at Sam. “Thank you.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Sam apologized, tears running down his face.  
  
“S kay.” She grinned weakly as her hand fell from Sam’s jacket and Dean realized she no longer gripped his hand at all. “S-sunrise.”  
  
“Sunrise?” Bobby asked, squatting down.  
  
“What’s that mean?” Dean asked her.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Her eyes had lost something. Her chest lay still. She was dead.   
  
Sam choked a sob, pulling her small frame against him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Dean lay her hand gently on her lap. He stood up, forcing a mental wall between the unfair death of this woman and the mission. He couldn’t do anything for the woman. She was gone.  
  
Sam fought back more tears as he laid her gently on the floor. “Dean?”  
  
“It’s too late, Sammy. She’s dead. Let her go.”  
  
Bobby was already on his feet, boots thumping across the wood floor toward the green wooden cabinet. “Dean. Help me move this.”  
  
“She’s dead!” Sam wiped his face off, rocking slightly.  
  
“Sam,” Dean gripped his little brother’s shoulder. “This wasn’t our fault. She was a demon.”  
  
Sam fought to pull himself together. Dean got up. He should have sent Sam home with Adam. Sam had only been on a few hunts. They were vampires. Easily identified as monsters. Demons really messed with your head. He shook his head in frustration as Bobby met his gaze.   
  
“Help me.” Bobby pushed the cabinet, Isaac and Dean helped him. Behind it was a low doorway. Tamara ducked inside.   
  
Dean ducked in behind her. “I need light.”  
  
Tamara lit a match. Dean wished Cas were here with his palm-size flame. He watched as she moved around the tiny room. There were a lot of odd things on shelves.  
  
“Should we just take all this?” Tamara asked.  
  
“Probably, but we only have room for a knife and a colt. Whatever the hell that is.” Dean stopped her, pushing her arm back an inch. “Think this is it, Bobby?” He picked up a knife, showing it to Bobby, who crouched in the doorway.  
  
“Looks like a good possibility. This etching in the blade is Enochian. That was the language angels used. Can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill a demon more than an angel would. And Samuel said a sprite made it, so Enochian fits.”  
  
Dean handed it to him.   
  
“This might be the colt,” Tamara said, handing Dean a gun with a long, skinny barrel. Dean turned the gun over in his hand. He saw the word Colt etched into the stock.  
  
“Must be.”  
  
“Here, it was in this box, with these bullets.”  
  
Dean put the gun in the box, closing it.  
  
“We gotta go!” Isaac yelled. “There’s two demons outside the door!”  
  
Tamara grabbed a few things as Dean came out of the little room. They waited for her to come out with a bag full of whatever else the demons were squirreling away in there.   
  
The door rattled with demons pounding on it. Bobby pulled out the knife. “Guess I’ll give this a whirl.” Bobby opened the door; Isaac knocked the first one out immediately. As the other lunged into the room, Bobby sunk the blade in its chest. The demon looked down at his chest in alarm. His body jolted with electric shocks, twitching several times before falling to the floor dead. Vessel and demon.  
  
Bobby turned around with a big grin. “It works!”  
  
“Sweet!” Dean grinned. “Let’s go.”  
  
“We can’t just leave these bodies here,” Sam said, not moving out like the rest of them.   
  
“Sam,” Dean said, exasperated with him.  
  
“I got this,” Isaac said. He pulled a flask out of his jacket, sprinkling salt on the dead bodies. Bobby knocked over an oil lantern, spilling oil and flame on the floor. They ran, darting out of the house quickly.  
  
Across the street from the house, they regrouped with Charlie, Jo, and Cas.  
  
“There he is,” Isaac said, stopping dead in his tracks.  
  
Dean followed his gaze as a demon with a red jacket ran into the house. “He’s the one we came to Lincoln for.”  
  
“We gotta go,” Charlie urged.  
  
Tamara and Isaac exchanged a determined look.  
  
“We can’t go in there,” Bobby said firmly. “We need to leave town!”  
  
“That’s the demon that killed my cousin Rae.” Tamara pulled a stake out of her jacket.  
  
Bobby looked torn, wanting to help his old friends, but knowing they should leave while the gettin’ was good. “We can wait for him ta run back out.”  
  
Dean took a step forward. His upbringing taught him that when someone helps you, you return the favor.  
  
“What did I just say? We’re gonna tail ‘em.” Bobby snapped.  
  
“We just gonna sit here with our junk in our hands?” Dean bitched.  
  
“We’re no good dead!” Bobby snapped again.  
  
“Bobby, I don’t think that’s an option,” Sam pointed.  
  
They all looked back to the house. Isaac and Tamara were heading in. Both had shotguns in their hands.  
  
“Dammit!” Bobby punched the fence they had semi hidden behind. “What are they doing?”  
  
“This place will be crawling with demons!” Charlie backed up a step. “That’s suicide!”  
  
“Damn fools!” Bobby swore.  
  
Cas took a deep breath, holding his hand out.  
  
Dean could see three groups of demons coming from the right. A small pack of kitsune coming from the left. Shots rang out from down the street.  
  
Dean grabbed Cas’ arm. Cas opened his eyes wide, giving Dean a shocked look.  
  
“What are you tryin’ to do? Save your magic. You can’t.”  
  
“We HAVE to get out of here!” Charlie hissed, pulling Cas’ sleeve.  
  
“Now!” Jo demanded. “Or we’ll all be dead by sundown.”  
  
Bobby gave the house a last look of bitter frustration. “Damn fools!”  
  
“I can do it!” Cas snapped, shaking Dean’s hand off. “I...” He squeezed his eyes shut, hunching his shoulders in straining concentration.  
  
“Cas!” Dean reached to grab him, and he was gone. Vanished. “What the hell!” Dean panicked, turning toward the house.  
  
Dean lunged toward it but got nowhere as Bobby and Sam both held him tight. “CAS!!!”  
  
Cas reappeared with Tamara and Isaac.  
  
Dean’s eyes damn near popped from his head in amazement. Cas crumpled immediately, blood running from his nose. Dean fell to his knees as Bobby and Sam let him go. He caught Cas just before he hit the ground. “Cas! What did you do?”  
  
Sam and Bobby went to collect Isaac off the ground, wafting smoke away and patting out his sleeve that was on fire. He was bleeding and clutching his side.  
  
All Dean remembered was shoving Cas onto Impala’s saddle and holding onto him as they took off. Cas tried to hold on, tried to stay upright, but he collapsed into Dean’s arms before they even cleared town.  
  
They galloped for miles before they stopped, hiding up in a thicket of trees.  
  
Dean handed Cas down to Bobby and Jo, who lay him up against a tree.  
  
Sam lowered Isaac down to Charlie and Tamara.  
  
The horses were puffing with exhaustion. Everyone moved quickly, pulling out supplies to stitch and bandage Isaac. Cas, well, Cas was a different type of hurt. He looked as white as snow, making the blood running from his nose look all the brighter.  
  
“Cas!” Dean said shakily. He wiped the blood away, noticing it had slowed down. “Cas. Come on.”  
  
Isaac groaned as Sam and Tamara started stitching.  
  
Charlie came to Cas’ side, opening a bag of herbs. She dug around as Dean tapped Cas’ face to try and rouse him. “Charlie, he’s not waking up.”  
  
“I know,” she said gently, pulling out a small clump of leaves bound in twine. Jo knelt on Cas’ other side, taking the bundle and pulling some out. She ground it between two rocks quickly, obviously having helped Charlie with this before. Charlie put her hand flat on Cas’ chest. “He’s breathing, Dean. I think he just zapped his mojo.”  
  
Jo waved the smeared leaves under Cas’ nose. Cas’ eyes fluttered open as he gasped for air. Blood spluttered from his mouth and he coughed.  
  
“Cas!” Dean grinned, “You’re okay!”  
  
Cas wiped a hand across his mouth heavily, blinking slowly. “I got them.”  
  
“Yeah, you got them, you stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean laughed humorlessly. “You damn near killed yourself doing it!”  
  
“M okay,” Cas slurred, his eyes closing again.  
  
Seeing him fading fast, Dean got right in his face, his head held in his hands. “Cas! Talk to me!”  
  
“Dea’,” Cas whispered. “I’m K. Sleep. Sorry.”  
  
“Cas!” Dean glanced at Charlie, panic in his eyes. Back to Cas’ face, he leaned in, kissing him. “Cas, stay with me.”  
  
Cas smiled faintly and passed out.  
  
“Dammit,” Dean sighed, holding his head more tenderly.  
  
“He’s okay, Dean,” Charlie said softly, putting a calming hand on his back. “He just blew all his power doing...whatever he did.”  
  
“Just...” Dean frowned miserably, “stay with me, Cas.”  
  
Dean jumped slightly as Cas’ body began sinking. He watched in panic as he shrunk. “No! No! Cas!”  
  
His worrying hands stilled as he sighed. Cas was a cat again. Limp and sleeping. He picked him up, stroking his fur. He cradled the cat in his lap. “Aw...Cas.”  
  
Charlie gave him a baffled look. “He needs another witch. Someone stronger than me. Like Missouri. You said you know her?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean gathered the cat in his arms more comfortably, kissing his soft, black head. “It’s okay,” he murmured, reassured by the rise and fall of the cat’s tiny chest.  
  
“Maybe he rests better that way,” Jo guessed.  
  
“I don’t know. I just hope he turns back. That’s what scares him. Every time he changes, he panics that he won’t change back.”  
  
“He will. If I can’t fix him, Missouri will,” Charlie assured him.  
  
“Got any witchy stuff for me?” Isaac groaned.  
  
“You’re lucky I don’t put a boot in that wound,” Bobby growled, glaring at the man fiercely. “You put my boys in danger. You put us all in danger. For the sake of revenge!”  
  
Tamara looked up from Isaac’s wound. “He deserved to die!”  
  
“Well, we don’t!” Bobby roared. “You get my boys hurt and you will wish you were dead!”  
  
Sam got to his feet, stepping in front of Bobby. “We’re okay, it’s gonna be okay, Bobby.”  
  
“Damn fools!” Bobby spat bitterly. “Cas ain’t okay! You coulda -” Bobby cut himself off, pacing away.  
  
Tamara exchanged a nervous look with Isaac and Dean. After a few tense moments, she looked over at Dean again. “What’s his deal?” She asked, pointing to Cas. “How’d he do what he did? He just...pulled us out of there! And why did he change into a cat?”  
  
“It’s complicated,” Dean snapped.  
  
She put her hand on the pistol at her hip. “He a shapeshifter? A familiar? What’s the deal?”  
  
Sam cocked a gun before Dean had even seen him move. “I think our road together ends here. You two are on your own. No more questions. No more anything.”  
  
Everyone on their feet took a slow step back. Bobby stared at his old friends with disappointment.  
  
Tamara nodded, picking up her bag. Isaac, stitched and cleaned, sat against the tree, still holding his side.  
  
Sam put the gun away and everyone mounted silently. Sam took Connie’s reins. Tamara had ridden her out of town and Cas couldn’t ride her now, so Sam put her on a lead line to follow behind him and Challenger.  
  
“See you gents around,” Tamara said.  
  
Bobby took a deep breath, keeping himself calm. “Tamara. The world just got a whole lot scarier. These demons are gonna come after you. War is coming.”  
  
She nodded solemnly as they rode away, leaving the hunters on their own.  
  
  
  
***********************************  
  
  
  
They rode hard for several hours, getting as much road as possible between them and Lincoln. Killing Meg, stealing the demon-killing knife and the colt put them on the map. Things would only get more difficult from here.  
  
Cas stayed a cat all day. Dean had him back in his flannel shirt sling, touching him frequently to make sure he was breathing. He had been feeling so good this morning. So rejuvenated. It worried Dean immensely the risks the sprite would take for them. He didn’t even know Tamara and Isaac. And while he was sure they were good people, good hunters, it was an insane risk for two people Cas didn’t even know.  
  
They camped high off the road that night, not lighting a fire. Cas woke up before Dean fell asleep. He got a few head nods yes and no, reassuring Dean that he was okay.  
  
By morning, Cas was human again.  
  
Dean woke to the beautiful sight of Cas’ pale face on his shoulder, sleeping soundly.  
  
“Cas?” He whispered, running a hand over his black hair. Cas blinked awake sleepily.  
  
“Dean,” he whispered back, grinning. “I’m okay.”  
  
Dean hugged him close, kissing his forehead, his cheek, his mouth. “You had me so worried.”  
  
Cas, still smiling, opened his eyes more fully. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m fine.”  
  
His color looked better and he breathed easy. Dean grinned even more when Cas’ hand slid up his chest. “No more of that. That sprite magic. It wipes you out.”  
  
Cas gave him a patient smile. “I saved those hunters. That’s a good thing.”  
  
“Yeah? Well the price was too heavy Cas. I need you. I...I want you with us. Promise me you won’t do that again.”  
  
Cas nestled his head in tighter to Dean’s neck. “I promise I won’t fly into a fire for those hunters again.”  
  
“Fly? Is that what you did?” Dean asked. His hand smoothed down Cas’ shoulder, down his side and stopped on his naked hip.  
  
“Yes. I had my wings again.” Cas looked up at him with a proud grin. “I had my wings again, Dean! I’m going to get better!”  
  
Dean turned onto his side, putting them face to face. “I’m glad, Cas. But...”  
  
Cas nodded. “I understand. I won’t take a risk like that again.”  
  
Dean wanted to make him swear to it. And in some ways he had. He was not above guilting Cas into safer actions. “You promised you’d help me.”  
  
Cas immediately looked contrite. “I am. I will. I do promise.”  
  
Dean nodded, leaning in to kiss him. He was so glad Cas was himself. That there was no damage. That he was here. And his.  
  
For now.  
  
He studied Cas’ face, just watching him. Cas grinned, touched his lip, then touched Dean’s. Dean’s mouth felt like a million tiny points fizzled, felt clean, and refreshed.  
  
“Dude...did you just brush my teeth?”  
  
Cas chuckled. “I did.”  
  
Dean ran his tongue over his smooth teeth. His mouth felt fantastic. “Can you do my whole body?”  
  
Cas grinned, touching his shoulder.  
  
Fizzles erupted everywhere with a wave of warmth. Dean’s head felt incredibly better. He put a hand to his clean hair, sighing. “That is freaking amazing.”  
  
Cas ran a hand over his chest, pulling up to lean over Dean. “Yes, it is. I took it for granted for far too long.” He leaned down, kissing him.  
  
“You gotta give everybody a shower!” Dean laughed. It blew his mind that in the midst of the worst place he’d ever been, under the most stress he had ever had, that Cas could still make him still smile.  
  
There was little to do as they all got up. They had not really made camp. More like dropped everything and slept. Cas gave everyone ‘showers’, everyone loving that he had the ability again. It made Dean happy to see everyone accepting Cas so easily. Even Cas sleeping with him had seemed accepted by everyone. Thinking back, he realized he had been the one that gave Cas a hard time. He was glad he had decided to put his trust in him. The stranger that really had never been a stranger at all.   
  
They saddled and mounted, heading back to the road with weapons ready. They would have to move quickly today. They were lucky to have gotten the few hours sleep that they did. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be on Friday!  
> So, how was their teamwork?  
> A for Amazing  
> B for ballsy but needs work  
> C for Cas is the team  
> D for Dysfunction-junction


	15. The Road to Elizabethville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets to know each other a little better as they travel through rough country.

Chapter 15: The Road to Elizabethville  
  
  
Sam had bought seeds at the trade station in Lincoln. Dean still felt baffled at all his little brother accomplished in such a short amount of time at the market. Though he continued to badger him for not getting him any pie. Cas grew apples and bananas for everyone, and Dean handed out blocks of cheese that he had packed as they set out on the road again.   
  
Rain started to fall heavily, making the roads a filthy, muddy mess. Thunder rumbled from behind them. The mud was slowing them down a great deal. It would take two more days to ride north to Elizabethville.   
  
When the rain poured down so hard they could barely see a foot in front of them, and Cas reported to the others that the horses refused to go any further in the terrible conditions, they stopped under the protection of some trees, huddling together on a log.   
  
“I’ve never been in this area,” Charlie said quietly. “I’ve heard this area can be pretty rough.”   
  
They all nodded dubiously.   
  
Dean looked exhausted. He had slept very little last night, and he fell asleep against Castiel’s side almost immediately after sitting down. Castiel took his hand, holding it firmly. He was not too sure he could manage it, but wanted to make Dean feel better. He summoned his grace, letting it build in his chest. From his palm to Dean’s palm, he let it flow with measured patience, sending energy and vitality into Dean. He eased the flow, pulling back until he gently ended it. He hoped it would do something to invigorate him. A moment later, Dean woke. He stretched, giving Castiel a friendly grin. “Man, I needed that nap! I’m ready when you guys are.”  
  
Castiel grinned. He really should ask Dean before he used his grace on him, but for the moment, he just enjoyed Dean feeling refreshed.  
  
“We need to wait out this storm,” Jo cautioned.  
  
Castiel waved a hand above them, weaving the branches snugly to make a canopy for them to stay dry. Everyone sighed with some relief. “I can dry you,” he grinned.  
  
“Ooh, do me!” Charlie grinned, standing up.  
  
He touched her forehead. Her hair blew back slightly and she and her clothes were dry.  
  
“Amazing!” She grinned, hugging him. Castiel hugged her back, grinning. He was a bit more used to her frequent hugging than he had been.  
  
“Anyone else?” He asked.  
  
“Yeah!” They all nodded, some more hesitantly than others.   
  
He waved a hand across the group and they were all dry. Everyone marveled at how easy it was.  
  
“Cas, your powers are getting so much stronger!” Charlie noted.  
  
“Yes, I don’t even feel fatigued from that.” He sat back down, next to Dean.   
  
“Show off,” Dean grinned, bumping his shoulder.  
  
“It was nothing,” Castiel admitted. “When I’m at full strength again, I can do much, much more.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean grinned harder, pushing a piece of Castiel’s hair back.  
  
Castiel blushed just thinking about what he could do to Dean. He wondered what Dean knew about ‘sprite’ sex practices. He knew for a fact that nephilim were capable of doing more than humans were.   
  
“What are you grinnin’ about?” Dean asked, watching him closely.  
  
Castiel blushed hard, he could feel his cheeks painfully heat up.   
  
Dean raised both eyebrows and glanced around at the others. “Never mind,” he said under his breath, smirking.  
  
Cas nodded, looking down, as to not have to explain his current state to anyone else. He reined the thoughts in and tempered the grace that started to flow without his permission. He blew out a breath and concentrated on the task at hand.  
  
They sat for close to twenty minutes before the rain slowed to a drizzle.  
  
“Let’s go,” Dean said, watching the road through the trees. “We can’t stay dry forever and we probably still have demons following us from Lincoln.”  
  
Back on the side trail Charlie said would be safer than the main road, they moved as quickly as was safe for the horses to plod through the mud. They covered a good bit of distance before the next interruption to their progress.  
  
Castiel never heard them coming. If they had been coming at all. For all he could tell, they rode right into a trap. Before he could even figure out why the horses were all stopping, some of them rearing up, at least fifteen vampires surrounded them.  
  
There was a lot of shouting from both sides. Teeth bared by the vampires and weapons bared by the humans. In true Thursday fashion, Castiel waited to gain a better grasp on the situation.  
  
Jo, whose horse had reared and unseated her, making her fall to the ground, was the first to attack, cutting a vampire’s arm to the bone with a machete. The vampire wheeled backward, another grabbing her, disarming her, and holding her around the waist and by the hair.  
  
  
“Hold it right there!” Bobby shouted, bow in hand, arrow nocked. “Stop. This arrow’s dipped in dead man’s blood.” Castiel quickly assured the fearful horses that their humans would protect them. Their harsh snorting was followed by feelings of nervous tension. The vampire stopped, everyone freezing. Sam also had a bow ready, and Dean had a machete poised to attack, already dismounted. The feathers of Bobby’s arrow were red, a sign that they were in fact dipped in dead man’s blood.  
  
“Jordan, wait,” one of the vampires said, walking forward.  
  
Castiel noticed the look of shock on the vampire’s face, keenly aimed at...Dean. Dean looked even more shocked. Dean lowered his machete, stepping forward.  
  
“Benny?” he whispered.  
  
“Dean...what are ya doin’ here, brotha?”  
  
“Are you a...vampire?” Dean asked in disbelief. “Are you alive?”  
  
Dean lowered the machete completely at this point, and Benny came right up to him. Castiel had the strong urge to hurt the monster. He reasoned it was because the monster was entirely too close to Dean, putting him in danger, but a truer reason had to do with that sigil the two shared. And the fact that they had been together before. Power surged inside him, making Connie step nervously. He clenched his fist, knowing he needed to wait.  
  
Benny hesitated to answer him, glancing at his fellow vampires. “I died. I no longa have a pulse. So yeah, I am a vampire.”  
  
“Benny,” Dean stammered. “We burned you. We gave you a hunter’s funeral, Benny! How? How is this even possible?”  
  
“My momma. She helped me ‘die’ to everyone in Lebanon. Truth is...I got bit on a hunt. Sloppy, really. Took on too many by myself. Anyhow...I came home, and Momma helped set it up so it looked like I died. Burned another man instead. A prisoner that I...well...I killed.”  
  
Dean took a step back.   
  
“I jus couldn’t disappoint everyone. I’d ratha die in their minds than end up...like I am. So, I left. Came to Purgatory. Where I belong.”  
  
“Benny...”  
  
Benny shrugged, tugging his cap down a notch. He turned to the vampire still holding Jo. “Letta go.”  
  
The vampire snarled but released Jo. She stumbled forward, into Charlie’s arms. The pair glared at the vampire vehemently and he glared back equally as hateful.  
  
“You coulda told me, Benny,” Dean said bitterly. “I burned you. I held your mom while she cried.” Dean’s voice shook with anger, and more that Castiel could not fathom.  
  
Benny nodded. “Sorry, brotha.”  
  
Dean looked away, looking at the faces of the other vampires. “I oughta kill all of you.” He looked squarely at Benny. “Even you.”  
  
“Likewise,” Benny countered solemnly.  
  
They all stood there silently for a moment. Finally, Benny stepped back. “Let ‘em go.”  
  
“Benny!” One of the other vampires snapped angrily. “We need the food!”  
  
“No!” Benny snapped back viciously. “They pass. No one touches any of them. That’s my word and it’s final.” He turned back to Dean. “Was good ta see you Dean. Neva expected ta see you in Purgatory.”  
  
“Likewise,” Dean echoed. His anger seemed to abate. His shoulders relaxed and his head dropped some. Castiel would guess the sight of his friend this way had made him sad. Dean pulled up his sleeve, holding his hand out.  
  
Benny softened, smiling at his old friend. He pulled his sleeve up as well and the pair clasped arms. They spoke quiet words between them, but Castiel could still hear them. Benny had simply said, “Brotha.” Dean had nodded. “Good luck, Benny. There’s a war coming. I hope I’m not your enemy next time I see you.” Benny smiled sadly. “You could neva be my enemy, Dean.” The pair released their grip and all the vampires stepped back, some disappearing with lightning speed, into the woods.  
  
The three off their horses mounted, while Sam and Bobby put their bows away. They left, walking out of what surely would have been a bloody battle.  
  
Castiel appreciated the kindness Benny had bestowed on their group, but it did nothing to dissuade the power surging in him and the want to smite him where he stood. They walked away, leaving the vampires behind.  
  
Castiel said nothing and Dean stared ahead, lost in thought.  
  
It reminded him how different he and Dean truly were. They were not even the same species. The thought rode bitterly in his gut as they traveled further north into Purgatory.  
  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
  
The road climbed steeply as they passed into the mountains. The air was fresher as they got out of the thick of the woods. The mountains were bleak, with little around but scrub brush and trees growing at twisting, odd angles in search of water or sun. There was never a question here that he was not at home. The dirt was different. The quality of the air. The wildlife. The water. Everything seemed tainted with the slow death Purgatory seemed to be floundering in. Having crossed a mountain range, they rode downhill for several hours, winding their way into a swamp. The air got heavier and bugs swarmed in clouds.  
  
“Did you ever wonder if maybe monsters aren’t really that bad?” Sam mused. “And they’re just pissed because they have to live here?”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh. “I’d say it’s more than that, Sammy.”  
  
Sam nodded, pulling slimy vines off his thigh that had flung against him as they rode through a particularly swampy area.  
  
“The horses are exhausted,” Castiel warned the group.  
  
“Yeah, well this isn’t a walk in the park for us either,” Charlie sighed heavily. “When we get out of this swamp, we should walk, give them a break.”

“They are complaining very loudly,” Castiel said, frowning at Challenger, who whinnied, tossing his head in annoyance, Impala matching it.

“Come on, Baby,” Dean said softly, stroking her long neck. “I’m sorry. We’ll get out of this shit as soon as we can.”  
  
It was late. Dusk was creeping into the sky and there was nowhere decent to stop to camp. Everyone was tired. Everyone was grouchy.  
  
This fucking sucked.  
  
And then there was the bugs. Mosquitoes came by swarms. Leeches kept attaching to the horse’s legs. Ticks crawled under their clothes. Beetles flew into them stupidly, sometimes landing and crawling on them, other times just plowing into them and falling.  
  
Cas was constantly keeping bugs away, energizing the horses, in general, he was constantly using his magic.   
  
All six horses staggered to the right at the sudden blast of a gun.  
  
Dean whipped around in his saddle. Bobby stared down into the knee-deep sludge of swamp. “Is that?”  
  
“A fucking alligator,” Bobby yelled. “A fucking alligator just tried to bite my horse’s friggin’ leg!”  
  
The body of the alligator began to sink. Dean watched with shock as Cas jumped down, wading quickly over to the alligator. He gripped the giant reptile by the mouth and snapped his fingers.  
  
Dean jumped as the food bag next to him plumped suddenly.  
  
Cas dropped the deflated looking gator, with a grin. He turned back to the startled looks of the group. “Dinner,” he shrugged.  
  
They hadn’t had meat in several days, so that sounded awesome to Dean. His stomach gave a growl in response.  
  
“There’s trees up ahead,” Jo said, moving forward again. “Maybe there’s dry land too.”  
  
They pushed on, hoping for land.   
  
It was dark by the time they found land dry enough to stop on. Cas busied himself immediately cleaning and bedding the horses. With a wave he dried everyone, cleaning them as well. Everyone sighed at the comfort of clean, soft clothes over their clean bodies. They waited as Cas put together food for dinner. No one even questioned eating the strange meat. They were all hungry and tired. They had a small fire that he and Sam managed to put together, so all Cas had to do was dry out the wood.   
  
“Take it easy, Cas,” Dean said softly, pulling Cas down next to him. He could see the drain using so much magic was doing to him. “You’ve done enough, dude.”  
  
Cas sat down, sighing.  
  
The closeness he had felt with Cas just this morning, was now frosty to say the least. Cas seemed pissed. He didn’t hide his emotions at all. You could read the guy like a book, even if he was quiet as a mouse.  
  
He didn’t have to ask what the problem was either. The problem had been rattling around in his head since he had walked away from Benny.  
  
Benny.  
  
Alive.  
  
He sighed, running his hands over his face. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it either.  
  
Cas jumped, turning back, looking into the woods. Bobby and Charlie got to their feet quickly. Dean jumped just as suddenly, looking into the dark.   
  
“Someone is coming,” Cas whispered.  
  
Dean had his machete in his hand. “How many?”  
  
“One, I think.”  
  
They all stood for a long time, watching, and listening, but they heard nothing more.  
  
Finally, after hearing and seeing nothing, they settled back down around the fire. Hopefully, whatever it was would be scared off by their numbers or the fire. Charlie put up hex bags and sigils around them, but they only kept out so many things.  
  
Charlie and Jo settled into sleep. Cas and Bobby too. Dean was too antsy, so he and Sam took first watch.  
  
After an hour, Dean found himself nodding off. He got up to walk, hoping to stay awake at least one more hour. Sam did the same, circling the small camp with him.  
  
“I can’t believe we saw Benny today,” Sam said quietly.  
  
Dean sighed. He so didn’t want to talk about this shit. “Yeah.”  
  
“Think Cas got a little jealous?” Sam chuckled.  
  
Dean gave him a sidelong look. “You know he can set you on fire with a snap of his fingers, right?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “He can do a lot of things with the snap of his fingers.” He shivered slightly. “Sprite magic is awesome, but it freaks me out when he cleans us up.”  
  
“Mm,” Dean had to agree. It did feel weird. “Try kissing one.”  
  
Sam stopped in his tracks, giving him a curious look. “What do you mean?”  
  
Dean shrugged. He didn’t like to kiss and tell...but damn. “Cas can...push...feelings onto you. Ya know, like when you’re gettin’ all hot and bothered. He can push that feeling onto you. It makes it...”  
  
Sam looked fascinated. “Is he making you feel something you don’t? I mean, he is a sprite. They can be tricksters.”  
  
“No, no. And he doesn’t always do it. I think it just...leaks out of him.”  
  
“Wow.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean laughed, continuing their walk.  
  
A rustle in a nearby bush caught them both off guard. It knocked Sam off his feet. Dean raised his machete, hesitating at the old hag of a woman in ragged clothing that backed off Sam. “What the hell, lady!”  
  
Sam was back on his feet, the woman looking slightly scared of him. She cowered away a step with raised hands.  
  
“GUYS!” Sam yelled, waking the others.   
  
Dean would kick himself later for his naïve hesitation. Because he was dumb enough to let his guard down, the woman grabbed his wrist, a spike shooting into his forearm.  
  
He jerked back, but she was a lot stronger than she had any right to be, her iron grip not budging. She slapped a hand to his forehead. Dean’s body flared into light. The tiny writing from his contract flared bright. The woman jumped back, looking stunned.   
  
Dean’s eyes went wide in shock as Sam beheaded her. She crumpled to the ground, her head rolling back under the bush.  
  
“What was it?” Bobby yelled.  
  
“A wraith,” Dean and Sam both yelled back. Bobby nodded, running back to his bag. He came back, stabbing a silver knife into her heart, sighing with relief.  
  
Sam grabbed Dean by the sleeve. “What happened?” Everyone stared at him. “What lit up all over you?”  
  
Dean hesitated, holding his arm to his chest as blood ran from the puncture wound. Cas was suddenly next to him, taking his arm with firm hands. He covered the wound with his hand. Dean winced at the bizarre feeling inside his arm. Cas wiped his hand over his forearm, wiping it clean. No wound. Not even a scar.  
  
“Thanks,” he muttered.  
  
Cas stared at him expectantly.  
  
Dean pressed his lips tight together. Cas wanted him to tell them. But he didn’t want anyone to know.  
  
“Why did your body light up like that?” Sam asked, turning Dean to look at him. “Wraiths don’t do that!”  
  
“That was a contract,” Charlie said, taking any options from him.  
  
“What kind of contract?” Jo asked.  
  
“A demonic contract on his soul,” Charlie answered.   
  
She immediately looked suspicious of him, making Dean instantly pissed. He knew this would be a fucking problem.  
  
“What?” Sam and Bobby gasped.  
  
“Dean!” Sam blanched even further. “What did you do?”  
  
Dean licked his lips, sliding his eyes across the group. Fuck. There was no way out of this clusterfuck.  
  
“Dean!” Sam yelled.  
  
“In Needham,” Dean shrugged his shoulders, hating to talk about this. “Crowley. He wasn’t gonna let us travel. I...I bartered my soul for passage all the way to purgatory and back for all of us.”  
  
Bobby and Sam looked as livid as Dean imagined they would.  
  
“YOU DID WHAT?” Bobby roared. “You stupid son of a bitch!”  
  
Dean nodded. Yeah. He had that coming.  
  
“You sold your soul?” Sam asked, fear making him weak in his knees. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen?”  
  
Dean shoved the dead wraith’s body toward the bush with its head. “Means when I die, my soul goes to Crowley. I go work for him.” He pulled a bag of salt out of his jacket, scattering it on the body. Better safe than sorry. No one wanted this bitch rejuvenating during the night.  
  
“Charlie, can you fix him? Can you get him out of the contract?” Sam asked desperately.  
  
Charlie shook her head no. “Sorry.”  
  
“Dammit, Dean!” He yelled, pacing away.  
  
Dean lit a match, dropping it on the body. The flame smoldered, almost going out. Cas held his hand out, engulfing her in flames. Dean looked up at him. His face was pensive in the firelight.  
  
Seeming to feel his gaze, Cas met his eye. Flames reflected in them, giving Dean chills.   
  
Cas turned to the group. “I intend to do whatever I can to end this deal. Or the demon.”  
  
“You knew?” Sam lashed out.   
  
“Cats are good at overhearing things they shouldn’t,” Dean said. Truth was, he never would have said anything around Cas if he had known he wasn’t just a cat.  
  
“Can you help him?” Bobby asked.  
  
“I will do everything I can,” Cas nodded.  
  
Bobby shook his head. “I oughta kick yer ass, boy.”  
  
Dean met the man’s angry brown eyes. “I know.”  
  
“Freakin’ Crowley!” Bobby spat, walking back to the fire.  
  
Dean hung his head. Part of the shame in making the deal was this. Everyone knowing Crowley owned his soul. That he had become marked and had no real way out of it. Maybe Cas could help. Maybe not. But he had wagered his soul. This problem was his own doing.  
  
“Why?” Sam asked him.  
  
Dean jerked slightly, not even realizing Sam was still standing there staring at him like the loser he was. “For Dad, Sam.”  
  
“For Dad? Because Dad would want that? Because he’s worth more than you are?”  
  
“Sam,” Cas said, warning in his voice.  
  
Sam threw his hands up in frustration, walking back to the fire. Now no one was sleeping.  
  
Great.  
  
Dean had a tortuously long night. He refused to lay down, just sitting, staring at the fire. He was screwed. And everybody knew it.  
  
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
  
Morning lit the sky weakly. Cas stood across from the fire, taking turns staring at the flames and at him.  
  
“You didn’t sleep, did ya?” Bobby groaned.  
  
Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked no more rested than when he finally went to bed.   
  
“Nah. Killed another wraith,” Dean smirked. Cas glared at him.  
  
“I didn’t even hear it!” Bobby said, shocked.   
  
“That’s because it was way out in the woods, where he was walking alone,” Cas noted.  
  
Dean sighed.  
  
“Why were you way out there?” Sam asked, getting to his feet.  
  
“Hey, I figured, the first one couldn’t kill me, so maybe nothing can.” He grinned, tossing a log on the fire.   
  
“Are you outta yer mind?” Bobby snapped. “You do NOT need to look for trouble in PURGATORY! It’s all around you!”  
  
Dean sent Cas a withering look. Yes, he had gotten pissed and took a walk. And yeah, he was looking for trouble. And he found it. Another wraith, skulking far out from camp. And he had killed it. Cas had heard the fight and came running. And he had healed a nasty gash from falling with the bitch, but hey, he killed a wraith. And he wasn’t dead.  
  
“Tamara told me about a hoodoo priest outside Shreveport. She might be able to help you get out of this demon deal.”  
  
Dean stifled a frustrated sigh. “Nah.”  
  
“Nah?” Sam repeated, incredulously. “What does that mean? Nah?”  
  
“No hoodoo priests, Sam. No side trips. We’re going after Dad, and that’s that.”  
  
“Dean!”  
  
“Sam,” Cas interrupted, putting a calming hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I promise I will help Dean find a way out of this deal. He’s safe for now. Right now, we need to find John.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Man...don’t make my brother promises you can’t keep, Cas.”  
  
Cas pinned him with a wide-eyed look of rage. His hand came off Sam’s shoulder as he stepped up to Dean, putting himself nose to nose with him. “I WILL get you out of this deal, Dean. One way or another.”  
  
Shocked at his vehemence and awed by the surge of grace he could feel rolling off the sprite, Dean swallowed. “Alright, Cas.”  
  
He stared at him only a few seconds before turning back to Sam. “I will not let his soul be taken.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Thanks, Cas.” Without even looking at Dean, Sam turned and headed toward the fire, sitting with Jo.  
  
Cas gave Dean another long look. “Enough.”  
  
Dean kept his mouth closed. He wouldn’t let anyone talk to him like that. But Cas was right. He needed to reel it in. Taking risks to get himself dead quicker was a bad plan. For everyone. He watched as Cas went back to the fire, asking Charlie what she wanted for breakfast. As Cas began making something, the others all gave him that look. That look that people give a loaded gun. The look when a wet dog is about to shake on you. Nervous. Like he was a problem. He walked over to Impala. He started to brush her, but ended up slumped against her shoulder.  
  
He was going to die.  
  
He was going to lose his soul.  
  
And he had done it to himself.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
Dean flinched at the impatient, hard edge to Cas’ voice. He didn’t want a lecture. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to defend why he knew he was going to lose everything. Cas wanted too much from him. It was too big. Save all humans from demons? Save sprites from demons? There was no way he could hold up through it all and get the job done. And his big fat reward? His soul would go to Crowley.  
  
Cas pulled him away from Impala, hugging him. Dean didn’t want to hug him. He hugged him back tight. He didn’t want to be here. He tucked his nose along Cas’ neck. He smelled so good. He always smelled good. Like cinnamon and fresh linen. He didn’t want to fall in love with a sprite. His hands rubbed up Cas’ back, sliding down to his hips. “I don’t wanna die, Cas. I’m sorry.”  
  
Cas’ hands were steady. “You are going to die an old man.” Cas took his face into his hands, staring into his eyes with that prodding grace. “Surrounded by your family.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” Dean said bitterly. Hating the traitorous tear that slid down his cheek.  
  
Cas swept it away with his thumb. “Have a little faith, Dean. My powers grow stronger every day. I do not make my promises lightly.”  
  
Dean nodded gently, Cas’ hands still holding him fast. Cas was right about one thing. He was getting stronger. Cas might be able to help him. If nothing else, he was helping his dad. And Sam. And, all of humanity and all the sprites, it seemed.  
  
Dean pulled to hug him again but Cas held him fast.   
  
“I need to know right now if you truly have faith in me.”  
  
Dean had faith in nothing. He felt his chin wobble as his mind screamed ‘No! I have faith in nothing! We’re all gonna die! I’m going to disappoint the whole friggin’ world!’ But there was light in Castiel’s eyes. An inhuman glow that radiated strength that made Dean’s insides quiver. He swallowed hard. The deep-down dark truth was that he needed Cas. He needed his help. His power. And the look in his eyes that only Dean got. And if he admitted it to himself, he needed him so bad because he knew he was the only way out of this fucking mess. But even more than all that, he just outright wanted Cas with him.  
  
“I do,” Dean swore.  
  
Cas pulled him in, kissing him soundly on the mouth. “I will take care of you, Dean.” He kissed him again, grace pulsing through, filling Dean’s lungs with warmth. “I swear it.”  
  
“I know,” Dean sniffled, kissing him back. Just as Dean fell into the wash of grace that swallowed him, Cas pulled back. Dean stepped forward, Cas wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Dean took charge this round, kissing him hungrily.  
  
“Get a room!” Bobby yelled.  
  
Dean and Cas gasped slightly, stepping apart.  
  
“Aw, I was gonna sit down with a tub of peanuts and watch that!” Charlie laughed.  
  
Jo whistled.  
  
Dean stepped a little further away from them, pulling Cas with him. “I need you to keep them off my back about the deal. I can’t fight demons, kitsune, werewolves, wraiths, AND my own crew. I’m gonna lose my shit, Cas.”  
  
Cas frowned. “I don’t want you to lose anything.”  
  
By the look of confusion, Dean knew he had lost him. “I meant, I’m gonna lose my temper. I’m gonna mess everything up because I get mad and yell. Just...help me convince them I’m gonna get my soul back.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “I will.” Dean bent forward, kissing Cas again. He could crawl in a hole somewhere and do this all day and night. The world could disappear. Guilt for his father pulled him back. It had been a regular kiss, none of the sprite magic to swallow him. Cas kissed him once more, sighing as he pulled away. His blue eyes sparkled with more than Dean could handle. He closed his eyes and took a steady breath.  
  
“We have far to travel today,” Cas said softly next to his ear.  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
Cas’ grin softened as he ran his hand through Dean’s hair gently. Dean hated that Cas often gave him a look like he wanted to fix him. He hated that he needed fixed. He sighed, tipping his head into Cas’ hand. “Let’s get out of here.”  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
They walked the better part of the day, encountering multiple monsters on the road, mostly vampires or demons. One berserker spooked the horses, sending Connie and Impala both into a frenzied gallop as Challenger struck it with his hooves and Bobby shot it. It ran off back into the woods. They regrouped and left the thing, not needing the added task of hunting after it.  
  
Castiel healed two injuries on the horses when they stopped to camp. Neither were too serious and he was pleased to note that his energy did not drain like before. In fact, he felt just as good as he had felt before healing them. If his grace was getting back to its former strength, the demons did not stand a chance. He patted Impala’s smooth neck as she nuzzled him.   
  
“You are quite welcome,” he grinned, answering her thankfulness from healing her leg. “It is no wonder Dean loves you so much. You are a beauty, with a strong mind.”  
  
She watched him, touching his chest with her large muzzle. A wave of love washed over him, making Castiel chuckle. “I know you love him very much. He knows as well.” He stopped short at her sudden, firm ‘no’. It followed with a different wave of love and Castiel melted inside. “You love me too?” He felt extremely honored. Horses were not like dogs. They were like most other animals. They might love a person in their life. Two or three at the very most. Impala had great love for Dean and Sam. To be a part of that filled his heart with unexpected joy. He hugged her large head to his chest briefly.  
  
“I am honored, friend.” He touched his forehead to her sleek, black fur on her forehead. “I love you as well.”  
  
Jo giggled from beside him. “Aw.”  
  
Castiel patted the horse, turning to Jo. “She is a very fine horse.”  
  
Jo raised her eyebrows, thinking him odd, surely. “So, how is your magic doing? Are you getting better?”  
  
“Quite,” he admitted. “I have healed two of the horses from minor injuries, made dinner, cleaned everyone, and I feel just as strong, as far as my grace is concerned, as I did when we got here.”  
  
Jo beamed. “That’s great! So...what kind of stuff can you do? Besides food and healing?”  
  
Castiel turned to the small clearing of their campsite. He pulled in a deep breath, reaching out with his grace. He grew the grass tall, catching everyone’s attention as they all noticed the grass at their feet grow as tall as their knees. They all looked at him with some surprise. He smiled, pulling the growth back, shrinking it down. So far, his grace thrummed happily. He waved a hand, all the trees circling the site burst into bloom, he waved his hand back and the leaves swayed, drying from tip to stem, turning colors of red and orange then to brown, falling.  
  
Everyone stared at the trees in awe. He took another deep breath, pushing with his grace as the trees budded, bloomed and were full again. He lowered his hand with a satisfied grin.  
  
“That was amazing!” Jo cheered.  
  
The rest of them still blinked around the campsite with some wonder. Cas waved a hand, clearing all the dead leaves back into the woods. Dean gave him a smirking grin.  
  
“Sprites really are powerful,” Sam said in a hushed voice.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean smirked harder, “We can bloom our enemies to death and bring them dinner.” He gave Castiel a challenging grin.  
  
Castiel tipped his chin down with a little grin of his own. Challenge received. Dean really was difficult to impress. He turned his palm up, the trees igniting in roaring flames. He grinned as they all ran back a few steps, looking on in shock. He closed his fist, putting the flames out. As the smoke cleared from the branches, they bloomed and grew leaves again.  
  
Dean turned to him in awe. That was more like it. He grinned as Dean stood there, staring at him. He watched as several limbs from the closest trees grew long, wrapping around Dean’s ankles, trapping him where he stood.  
  
“Hey!” Dean yelled, the others looking at him.  
  
The limbs wrapped up his legs, his torso, and his over his shoulders.  
  
“Cas! Cut it out!”  
  
Castiel laughed, enjoying flexing his newly returned grace.  
  
Castiel lifted his hand, the limbs carrying him in their tangled weave to the top of one of the trees.  
  
“Dean!” Sam yelled, running toward the tree his brother was in. “Cas, stop!”  
  
Castiel grinned.  
  
“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yelled, “Put me back down!” Charlie and Jo laughed at his predicament, while Bobby gave him a scowl.   
  
Castiel lowered him back to the ground and snapped his fingers, the branches dissolving to dust.  
  
Dean stepped away from the spot, looking slightly shaken, while Sam dusted him off.  
  
“What the hell?” Dean exclaimed.  
  
“I wanted to be sure you knew I could do more than bring flowers and dinner when I wanted to,” Castiel explained, chuckling. Jo and Charlie seemed quite amused, still laughing.  
  
“Okay, okay!” He laughed, ruffling dust from his hair.  
  
Castiel laughed at his state, cleaning him with a wave.  
  
“Woooo!” Jo cheered, clapping. “That was awesome!”  
  
Bobby and Sam relaxed quite a bit, giving Castiel a look of shock tinged with worry.  
  
“Glad you’re on our side,” Bobby said, stepping back.  
  
Castiel grinned. Yes, they should be glad. If the demons and nephilim ever joined forces, the humans would not stand a chance. Castiel frowned at the thought. What if that did happen? What sort of chance would Purgatory stand with such a war? Let alone Freeland or Lawrence. They would fall so quickly.  
  
“What is it?” Charlie asked, always so intuitive.  
  
“I...” He hated to even give the words voice. Besides, it would only worry his group more. But it was something he needed to check into. Such an alliance must never form. The results could reshape the world. Again. “I just wanted to be sure you knew I was up to the challenge that awaits us in Elizabethville.”  
  
“Noted,” Dean barked.  
  
“Yeah, we’re glad you’re on our team, Cas,” Sam assured.  
  
“You better watch your step there, Dean,” Charlie giggled.  
  
Dean glared at her.  
  
“What?” She shrugged. “You’re the one snuggled up to a sprite at night!”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes but came up to Castiel regardless.  
  
“I would never use my grace against you,” Castiel assured, not wanting Dean to ever feel afraid of him.   
  
“You better not.” Dean grinned, “you still can’t outrun a bullet.”   
  
The thought shocked Castiel slightly. But he thought he might be able to disappear between to where his wings were, quick enough to get away from a bullet. He did not want to test the theory though.  
  
“Just kidding,” Dean said low, chucking him on the chin.  
  
Castiel grinned. Dean could be so endearing at times.   
  
“So, what else can you do?” Dean asked, stepping into his space, the others moving over to the fire to settle in for the night as the sky darkened. “Any powers I might benefit from instead of get splinters from?”  
  
Castiel reached out, pulling him in the last step by the collar of his shirt, putting an arm around him. He put his hand on Dean’s chest, spreading the warm feeling that he felt in his own chest. Dean blinked, feeling the rush of affection he felt. His cheeks flushed and his hands wrapped gently around Castiel’s shoulder and arm.  
  
“W-what is that?” Dean whispered.  
  
“It’s how I’m feeling,” Castiel explained, letting the adoration and affection flow. He watched with fascination as Dean’s breath hitched and then came in quicker puffs.  
  
“Feels...good,” Dean grinned shyly.  
  
Castiel’s feeling flared at the sweet smile. Dean sucked in a breath, his eyes flying to meet his. His jaw was slack now and his eyes were greener than Castiel had ever noted them to be.   
  
Castiel pulled his swelling emotions back, not wishing to overwhelm him. It was like watching a balloon slightly deflate. Dean’s grip on him tightened. As his emotions pulled back, Dean drew forward with them until their mouths met.  
  
Castiel grinned into the kiss, hugging Dean to him.  
  
Dean pulled back a moment later, eyes still so full of expression and words on the tip of his tongue. But he said nothing, stepping back. Of course, what was there to say? There was obvious attraction between the two. They had been through so much already. The words were not necessary.  
  
“Can you...read me, or whatever you call it? Like you do with the horses?” Dean asked quietly.  
  
Castiel concentrated on the thought. “Perhaps. I’ve never done it before, but I could try.”  
  
“No,” Dean held a hand up, grinning slightly. “Not now. I just wondered if you could.”  
  
Castiel slid his thumb across a smattering of freckles on Dean’s cheek. “Yes, we should try it sometime.”  
  
“Maybe somewhere private. Ya know, when we aren’t in constant danger,” Dean grinned.  
  
The pair stepped apart, Castiel waving a hand to put out their bedroll. Tonight, Castiel decided to forgo the appearance of two separate bedrolls. Dean’s lay on the ground with Castiel’s as the top cover.  
  
Dean, coming back from checking on the horses only grinned when he saw the bed. Castiel realized with a new level of awareness, just how attached to Dean he was becoming. He longed to touch him. Thoughts of him clouded his mind day and night. Nephilim of Thursday were not known for behaving like this. They were among all the nephilim, considered, to be stoic with bouts of sadness. They watched and listened, judged, and felt driven to find and deliver the truth. And while he did feel all these things...he felt so much more. He felt a bond with all five of these people. Even Adam, who he had not seen for weeks now. He gave Dean a curious look as he pulled his clothes off to get in bed. His smooth skin shown in the moonlight, marked with a few scars and the sigils that peppered his forearm. Dean made him feel more like a human than he had ever felt before. Dean made him nervous, frustrated, happy, safe, and vulnerable. It was like tumbling down a hill. A saying tickled his awareness. Was he...falling in love? A wash of heat pounded against his chest and his heart beat quickened. His palms felt sweaty.  
  
He frowned down at his palms. Nephilim did not sweat. Ever.  
  
Was he more human than angel in his lineage? Was this why his emotions were running so rampant? But his powers were so strong. Gabriel had said so. Did that not make him more angel than human?  
  
Dean was in the bed by now, hands behind his head, waiting in a relaxed, stretched out pose. He watched him as curiously as Castiel knew he was watching Dean.   
  
Whatever his lineage was, it did not matter tonight. Tonight, his companion was awaiting with a patient grin. Castiel got in the bed, settling next to him with a mixture of familiarity and it still being so brand new to be able to touch him. Sometimes he felt like this entire experience was too unreal to be true. As if merely touching Dean would burst the dream and he would wake up in Gabriel’s library, having never met a human. He swallowed hard at the thought. Unable to stand the idea, he put his hand on Dean’s chest, taking a deep breath as the solid body and warm skin did not disappear. Dean frowned with worry, pulling one hand from behind his head to cover Castiel’s hand on his chest.  
  
“You okay?” Dean asked softly.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel sighed. “Sometimes I worry that none of this is real. That I haven’t really met you. That I’m still in Haven.” It all came out in a rush and he blushed admitting such ridiculous thoughts.  
  
Dean squeezed his hand. “Same.”  
  
Castiel blinked, realizing Dean was not joking. That his eyes met his with the same slightly frantic look he felt.  
  
Dean licked his lips, looking down at their hands. “Like I fell and hit my head. And instead of making out with a sprite, I’m lying in bed like a cabbage and Donna is taking care of me. Or a djinn has me strung up somewhere and I’m just hangin’ there dying.”  
  
Just the thought gave Castiel chills. “No,” he assured Dean, scooting closer. “This is no djinn. No trick of Gabriel’s.”  
  
“No, you’re right. It is real. Only my luck would put something as amazing as you in my life when I have a newly acquired expiration date.” He grinned sarcastically.  
  
Castiel went up on one elbow, staring into the bitter look in Dean’s eyes. “You still doubt me.”  
  
“No!” Dean sobered. “I know. You’re going to save my soul. I know.”  
  
“It’s true,” Castiel assured him. There was a look of almost-belief in Dean’s eyes.  
  
“See why I think I’m being poisoned by a djinn though?” Dean laughed short. “My magical boyfriend is gonna save the day. Sounds insane, right?”  
  
Castiel could feel his cheeks heat and the wave of adoration swell within him.  
  
Dean, watching him, grinned. “I threw you off there, didn’t I? Boyfriend? It was that word, right? Not ‘magical’ or ‘saved’ or ‘insane’...”  
  
“No,” Castiel whispered, a smile spread from ear to ear, from his heart to his soul. He leaned down, kissing Dean, who was grinning just as sagely. “It was definitely the word ‘boyfriend’.” They allowed themselves a quiet, dirty kiss. After that, only because there were others around, Castiel lay down, snuggling into Dean’s side.  
  
“Good night, Dean,” Castiel whispered.  
  
“Night, Cas,” Dean whispered back, petting a hand through his hair with constant, soft strokes.  
  
  
*************  
  
  
Castiel woke to Dean running his hand down his side. He yawned, rolling over to see how large Dean looked to him.  
  
Dammit. He was a cat again.   
  
Rather than fear the unexplainable or fight the state of his body, Castiel got to his feet.  
  
“It’s time for our watch,” Dean said low, his voice warm and scratchy with sleep.  
  
Castiel nodded his understanding.  
  
“You gonna do watch with me as a cat?” Dean asked.  
  
As if Castiel could just swap back to his human form! Like he had not tried! He glared, his head tilting.  
  
“Alright,” Dean scoffed. “Don’t get your breaches in a twist,” he grinned.  
  
“Oh...no breaches for kitties,” he taunted.  
  
Castiel growled.  
  
Dean’s face lit up. “You just growled at me!” He leaned down, whispering, “if you were in your normal body, I bet your face would be all smitey and you’d be glaring like -” Dean grinned, looking at his narrowed eyes. “Yep, like that. It’s hot, ya know. When you aren’t a cat.”  
  
Castiel growled again, fighting a fucking purr from rumbling out. He followed Dean as he laughed at his own jokes.  
  
“You two good?” Bobby asked, glancing down at Castiel.  
  
Castiel nodded back. He trotted off to circle the camp. He did enjoy watching camp as a cat. He could move so quickly and quietly. He could smell and see very well. The only thing he did not like, was that he was powerless. His grace would not manifest when he was in cat form.  
  
He met up with Dean.  
  
“See anything?” Dean asked.  
  
Castiel shook his head no. All was quiet. They sat side by side for a while, watching the woods and down the slope to the road below.  
  
An hour into their watch, a group of vampires passed by, using the road. Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. They sat perfectly silent and none noticed them or their sleeping comrades.   
  
Half an hour after the vampires had passed, Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it bothered you or not that I saw Benny again.” He swallowed, staring into the dark woods, not meeting Castiel’s eye.  
  
“I know it bothered you. I could tell. But...I still kinda can’t believe I saw him again. He was supposed to be dead.” Dean sat for several minutes before speaking again. “I just wanted you to know for sure that I am in no way still attached to him. I mean, it’s cool he’s still alive. I think. And...I’m glad he let us go. I’m very glad I didn’t have to kill him. And I don’t know that I would see him in the veil. I mean...we could talk or whatever. But I’m totally over him. Over the relationship we had.” Silence stretched for a few minutes.  
  
“I just wanted you to know.”  
  
“I am sure you -”  
  
Dean jumped, gasping, and raising his machete at Castiel. Unsurprised to catch Dean off guard, he lowered Dean’s machete. He had changed back and got himself dressed by grace as Dean went on about Benny. Now, with Dean so distracted, he had startled him.  
  
“Shit!” Dean yelped, pulling the blade away. “You need a damn bell!”  
  
“As I was saying,” Castiel clarified, getting them back on point, “I am sure you would have much to talk about. My jealousy was unfounded.” Castiel could not help but frown. “I will admit, the sigil bothers me.”  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
Castiel gave his boyfriend a reassuring grin. “But I will get over it. I promise.”  
  
Dean grinned back. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel grinned. “You were friends.”  
  
“Yeah. Before and after we were...a thing.”  
  
Castiel pressed his mouth in a firm line, studying Dean. “You have new friends now.”  
  
Dean looked at him with a slow grin. “Yeah. Better friends.”  
  
Castiel copied his grin, turning back to the woods. Charlie and Jo did seem like good friends. And he himself would do anything for Dean. He knew Bobby and Sam felt the same way. Dean deserved to be surrounded with good people. At least for as long as it could last.  
  
He propped his chin on his forearm, staring far into the trees as he ran his thumb back and forth over the sigil on his arm.  
  
War was coming.  
  
  
********************************  
  
  
Dean wiped his machete off. The horses crowded into the center of the ring they made around them, eyes wide and crying out in fear. They were barely on the road an hour before Leviathan attacked them.  
  
The black ooze that was their blood was revolting. He wiped his blade again on the headless body in front of him.  
  
Bobby panted hard, having killed two himself. Black speckles covered his face, chest, and arms. Charlie quieted the horses closest to her as she watched the woods. She had killed three, Jo killing another three, including the one that damn near bit his head off. He didn’t even know what they were when they surrounded them. They looked like humans until the one Dean was closest to opened his mouth and his whole friggin’ head turned into a giant, monstrous mouth of razor-sharp teeth! They were one thing to read about, but completely another to witness. Jo had chopped its head off as he stood there stunned at how they transformed. After that, it was a blood bath.   
  
Cas had fought them off too, killing three or four. He started off with a machete but lost it in a scuffle, instead, putting his hand on their head and a white light shot into it, killing it. Still, the guy coulda lost a hand if Sam had not been right there helping him. It was all any of them could do to keep up. They just seemed to keep coming out of the woods by twos.   
  
“Cas?” Sam called, dropping to his knees.  
  
Cas and Dean both quit watching the woods as they went to Sam. Dean glanced all over his brother immediately, seeing what Sam was in pain about. “You got bit!”  
  
Sam cradled his left hand to his chest, his jacket already covered in Leviathan blood was now turning red with his own. Sam rocked in pain.  
  
“Let me see it,” Dean said, his own hands shaking already. Sam winced, blew out a breath and lifted his right hand away. Dean winced as well. A set of huge teeth marks gashed open Sam’s hand; half of his hand looked marred beyond repair. “It’s okay, Sam.”  
  
Sam covered his hand, curling in on himself. “It hurts! Shit! Am I gonna turn into a Leviathan?”  
  
Dean was trying to steady him when Cas grabbed Sam’s jacket. “Sam. I’m going to help you.”  
  
Sam cried out again and Cas touched his forehead. Sam slumped over, Cas catching him to lay him down.  
  
“How bad is it?” Bobby asked, he, Jo, and Charlie were still watching the woods and calming the spooked horses.  
  
“It’s bad,” Cas said, taking Sam’s hand into his. A white light glowed between their hands while all Dean could do was stare.  
  
The light surged until Cas panted, opening his hands. “I’ve stopped the bleeding and removed the poisonous Leviathan blood. I mended the bones but -”  
  
“CAS!” Dean jumped, beheading a Leviathan that lunged at Cas. Cas had crouched, covering Sam as Dean stumbled over top of him to take on the next one, but its mouth opened in shock, eyes shooting white light from them. Dean squinted, seeing around the harsh light that Cas had grabbed it by the back of the neck. They both let the dead thing go, turning back to Sam.  
  
“We gotta get out of here,” Charlie ordered. “Can he be moved?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas said deep, lifting Sam into a sitting position. He snapped his fingers, cleaning Sam’s wound and clothes. He touched his forehead again and Sam sat up, taking a huge breath, and blinked around in a daze. He looked down at his hand, which Dean quickly wrapped in a shirt. “Don’t look at it, Sammy. Cas still needs to fix it but we gotta get outta here.”  
  
Sam nodded. “Thanks, Cas.”  
  
Cas nodded gravely, turning to the woods. “We’ll have to ride hard to lose them.”  
  
Charlie and Jo mounted. “They’ll report us to the demons,” Jo added.  
  
The rest of them mounted. The horses were more than willing to run. They rode hard for hours; losing the demons to the wild, twisting roads and thick woods. Sam stayed quiet, keeping his hand tucked away.  
  
When they stopped for lunch, Cas sat with Sam, holding his hand in that white light again. Sam squirmed at times, frowned a lot, and then seemed better.  
  
“I need to do more,” Cas said, sighing and taking the water Dean offered him. “There are muscles that still need mended, but I need to save my strength.”  
  
Sam nodded. “It doesn’t hurt, so thanks, Cas!”  
  
Cas slumped down with a relieved grin and fell asleep. Dean sat next to his brother.  
  
“That was close.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam huffed, unamused. “I coulda lost my whole friggin’ hand!”  
  
Dean gripped his brother’s arm, not saying anything. If he had lost Sam...He couldn’t even finish the thought.  
  
“At least if I died, you know where to find me,” Sam said tightly. “What if something happens to you, Dean? We’ll never see you again?”  
  
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, face turned down to the ground.   
  
“What would I tell Dad? Adam? Shit. What would I tell Mom when I see her in the veil?”  
  
Dean let go of Sam. “You tell them...nothing. Cas is gonna fix this. He promised.”  
  
“What if he can’t?” Sam looked close to tears. “What if he gets killed?”  
  
Charlie squatted down in front of the two. “Sam, Dean did the only thing he thought he could do. I have an entire coven that will help if something happens to Cas.” She put a hand on both of their knees. “No one is tearing this group apart. Not Crowley, not anyone.” She nodded, standing up as both brothers watched her walk back over to Bobby.   
  
Dean turned to Sam. “I’m sorry I let you down, Sam. If...if I don’t make it to the veil, tell Mom I’m sorry and give her a hug from me.”  
  
Sam shook his head no. “You hug her yourself. Charlie’s right. And I won’t stop for anything to get you out of that deal. Crowley picked the wrong fucking family to mess with.”  
  
“Huh, ain’t that the truth,” Bobby piped in.   
  
Dean met his fierce gaze. “Family is stronger than anything that smarmy demon can throw at us,” Bobby insisted, still looking pissed.  
  
Dean got to his feet uncomfortably. Everyone was rallying to fight for him, which was awesome and heartwarming, but it also stressed Dean the fuck out because it put them in danger. Besides, as much as they all loved him, Crowley was a shrewd and damn-smart demon. The entire thing made him want to drink. Or just shut down. Or fight the world. All three notions always swam fitfully in the back of his mind.   
  
He glanced down at Cas, sleeping against a tree, spattered from head to toe in Leviathan blood. He wiped his own face off, his sleeve covered in grime.

They needed to get the fuck out of here.

  
  



	16. Elizabethville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a big chapter full of big events and big changes.   
> Ready or not...here we go!

Chapter 16: Elizabethville  
  
  
  
Elizabethville was barely a town. It reminded Dean of the war camps his dad would read about when he and Sam were younger. In the War of the Peoples, humans didn’t settle as they did today. They often had camps that moved with the weather or the herds. The lands were all wild and ravaged from the warring angels. During the First Summit, angels, humans, and monsters met and decided on borders. The angels left, sinking the land strait behind them. It took much longer for humans and monsters to settle their territories, warring after the summit and dividing into what life was like today. Though, times seemed to have changed again.  
  
Elizabethville was a collection of tents and rickety looking buildings that scattered out from a central point. “What is that in the center of town?” Dean asked. He squinted as hard as he could but could not make out what lay in the circular center of town.  
  
“Beats me,” Bobby muttered.  
  
Cas squinted too, straining to see enough detail from their vantage point on a mountain ridge above town. “I believe it’s a lay line. A focal point of sorts. There is an altar and a clear, circular patch of dirt with demonic writing on it. I can...feel the demonic energy here.”  
  
Charlie shuttered beside him. “How will we find him?”  
  
Dean frowned. All this way and his dad was somewhere in this tangle of tents and crappy buildings. “Meg said he was in a warehouse. And something about a sunset. He must be in one of the buildings.”  
  
“Sunrise, not sunset. If it matters. And that narrows it down to 12 choices, If the warehouse is one of the buildings,” Sam sighed.  
  
“We should split up,” Charlie suggested, pulling a dagger out of her hilt.  
  
“No,” Castiel frowned. “We should stay together. We barely stand a chance as it is. They highly out-number us.”  
  
“Right,” Charlie countered. “If we’re caught, we’re screwed. We should split up and sneak in. Do our best to not alert them to our presence. Then, whoever makes it, frees John.”  
  
Bobby frowned. “I don’t think so. I ain’t backing a plan based on people not making it out. We just need to think about this.”  
  
They all stared at the mess of tents with buildings here and there. There weren’t even roads to follow in. It was a chaos of pale tents. They could see demons going about whatever it was demons did all day. They looked like ants crawling around an ant hill. Busy. Industrious. And they needed exterminated.  
  
“We could try to blend in. Act like demons,” Sam suggested.  
  
Castiel shook his head. “They would know immediately. I can see part of their true faces. I believe they would spot you easily.”  
  
Dean studied the sprite for a moment. “That mean they can see that you’re a sprite?”  
  
Cas tipped his head back and forth. “I am unsure. They did not recognize me in Stockville. However, my grace was much weaker then.”  
  
“Friggin fantastic,” Dean muttered.  
  
They had ridden a long way today. Now that he could see the town, his worries were mounting. How would they get his dad out of this mess?  
  
  
  
*************  
  
  
  
They all pulled back from the rise of rocks they leaned against overlooking the town below. They squatted on the ground behind them, forming a circle.  
  
“I have an idea,” Charlie said, “but you aren’t going to like it.”  
  
“What is it?” Sam asked, looking as eager as Dean.  
  
“I can use John’s knife as a locator. It can point out the right building.”  
  
Dean gave her an incredulous look. “Why didn’t we use that from the beginning?”  
  
She shook her head, her red hair swinging gently. “It only works up close. It probably won’t even start working until we’re really close.”  
  
They exchanged looks, none of them committing to or discrediting the idea.  
  
“That still puts us right in that demon nest, wandering around,” Bobby warned.  
  
“Bobby,” Dean said quietly, shifting to look at his mentor and friend. “We came a long way. We knew this was going to get ugly at some point. We gotta try something. We’re so close!”  
  
Bobby bit his lip, his beard bristling. Eventually he nodded, surrendering to the knowledge that someone had to take a risk. “Fine. I’ll go.”  
  
“What?” Dean snapped. “No! It’s gonna be me.”  
  
Bobby shifted uncomfortably. “M jus not sure how much I trust you ta not get killed by taking some giant risk.”  
  
Dean sighed, his eyes dropping to the muddy ground at their knees. “I’m not risking my life if I don’t have to. Crowley said I have ten years. I’m not wasting that. Not when Cas just might be able to get me out of it.”  
  
Bobby stared Dean down for a full minute before he relented, giving him a nod.   
  
“So, we put a spell on the dagger and what?” Jo prompted. “Wander around camp?”  
  
Charlie shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion.”  
  
“So...” Sam crinkled his brow in worry, “split up?”  
  
“I think I should go alone,” Castiel said. The more they talked about being amongst all the demons, he was sure they should stay up here on the hillside where it was safer.  
  
“You’re not goin’ alone,” Dean said sternly, shaking the idea off, not even bothering to meet his eye.  
  
Castiel sighed in frustration. They were dealing with a town full of demons. Humans were too fragile to take on this kind of fight.   
  
“So, we tie up the horses,” Bobby began, “split into three groups of two, and each group take four buildings to search.”  
  
“The dagger could speed up our search. But spells like that can give weak directions. It’s not the most accurate spell,” Charlie added.   
  
Castiel frowned in doubt. “And how exactly will you defend yourselves from demons?”  
  
Five sets of eyes turned back to him. “You aren’t going alone,” Sam snapped. “You said you’d help my brother. And I’m holding you to that, sprite.”  
  
“Easy,” Dean barked back in Castiel’s defense.  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes at the title. “I won’t have anything to ‘fix’ if he’s dead.”  
  
“Alright!” Jo butt in, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We just have to be smart about this. No one is sacrificing themselves for John. We’re just...making this happen. Somehow.”  
  
Sam backed down a bit, twisting his mouth in frustration.  
  
Castiel could see no way around it. “I think I should go in alone. I can fly in, grab him, and fly out. Like I did with the hunters.”  
  
Worry and doubt crossed Dean’s face as he turned fully to him. “I don’t think so, Cas. What if it alerts them to you being a sprite? It seemed like the whole town woke up when you did that in Lincoln.”  
  
Castiel frowned in thought. “I’ll bring us back here. They won’t be able to follow fast enough. We can lose them in the woods.”  
  
Castiel took a step back from them.  
  
“You don’t even know exactly where he is,” Charlie argued.  
  
Dean leaned forward, grabbing Castiel by the wrist. “Don’t you dare leave me.”  
  
The pair locked gazes. “Dean,” Castiel said with a note of apology.  
  
“I promised I wouldn’t leave you!” Dean said quickly, squeezing him tighter. “Now you promise you won’t leave me.”  
  
“Dean,” Castiel shook his head.  
  
“Cas. Promise me.” Dean pulled him, grabbing him by the coat with his other hand, making him face Dean directly. “I’m not losing you. We’ll find another way. Together.”  
  
He could see an argument was all he would get. He glanced around the group. It was evident he would not be doing this alone.  
  
“Cas,” Dean insisted, giving him a gentle shake. “Promise me.”  
  
Castiel’s mouth closed and his chin dropped slightly. “I promise.”  
  
Dean relaxed, letting his sleeve go. His grip on his wrist loosened and finally Dean let him go. They stared, holding each other accountable to their words. The others waited, watching the pair with tight expressions.  
  
“Fine then.” He did not feel this to be safer in any sense. But if they all wanted to be a part of the rescue, he was not going to stop them.  
  
“He’s right though,” Bobby admitted. “How will we even attempt to defend ourselves?”  
  
“With this,” Dean said, pulling out the demon-killing knife, putting it on the ground in the center of their circle.  
  
“And the Colt,” Charlie added. She got it from a saddlebag, placing it on the ground by the knife.  
  
Some of them nodded, all of them staring down at the weapons.   
  
“So, that’s two weapons,” Dean said.  
  
“Three,” Castiel added, looking around at the group. “I am the third weapon.”  
  
The five of them exchanged unsure looks.  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes, tired of them treating him like he was little more than the black cat they first met. “Do not underestimate my abilities. I may still be regaining the strength of my grace, but I could burn that entire town to the ground if I wished to.” He pinned each of them with a look of certainty.  
  
Dean licked his lips, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw. “Okay. So, we have three weapons.”  
  
Sam, seemed impressed enough to at least trust him, nodded, getting on board with the plan. “Okay, so, I’ll take the knife and Jo.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Bobby interrupted. “You’re one hand short already. And someone needs to stay with the horses.”  
  
“What?!” Sam scoffed.  
  
“That’s true,” Dean nodded.  
  
“No,” Sam argued. He and Cas exchanged a look. He rolled his eyes. “I hate this.”  
  
“Staying with the horses is important,” Cas insisted, almost hiding his smirk.  
  
Sam sighed loudly, sitting back in frustration. His hand had healed well, but the muscles were still thin and weak.  
  
“No one should go unless they have a weapon,” Charlie insisted.  
  
Dean picked up the demon-killing knife. “Fine.”  
  
Charlie picked up the Colt. “I’ll put the spell on the dagger and the three of us should stay together. Besides, the less humans down there, the better.”  
  
They all agreed. It took another twenty minutes to hash out the details of how to enter the town and how to escape it quickly. Charlie put the spell on the dagger, but nothing happened.   
  
She shrugged at the group. “Maybe when we get closer?”  
  
“This is messy,” Bobby grumbled.  
  
“It was bound to get messy at some point,” Jo sighed. “And I don’t like being stuck here watching either.”  
  
Castiel exchanged a look with Sam and Dean. This entire ordeal had been messy from day one.  
  
“I’ll check on the horses,” Castiel said quietly, leaving the anxious group of people for the nervous group of horses.  
  
As he reassured Connie, he turned to see Sam approach him.  
  
“Hey, uh, Cas.”  
  
Castiel stared at Sam for several seconds before answering. “Hello, Sam.”  
  
Sam shifted with a nervous smile, flitting to a look of worry. “Um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you back there. I’m just...worried. Really pissed, actually.” He sighed, seeming to search the ground for words or inspiration. He met Castiel’s eyes, looking terrified. “Cas, can you help him? Can you really fix his deal with the demon, Crowley?”  
  
Castiel’s heart clenched. Of course, Sam would be upset. His brother was in jeopardy beyond the rest of them. He gripped Sam’s shoulder. “I promise I will help your brother. He means a great deal to me. You all do. I will help you all get John, then we’ll figure out what is happening with these demons warring. Then I shall do anything in my power to help him.”  
  
Sam nodded, his mouth twitching as he fought back tears.  
  
“Sam,” Castiel assured him, making him meet his eyes, “I have a lot of power.”  
  
“Right,” Sam ducked his head. “Sorry for being so rude earlier. I just...”  
  
“You are worried,” Castiel surmised, nodding as Sam nodded. “Let’s work together to save your father. Then we will know so much more. I hope.”  
  
Sam nodded, pushing a hopeful grin, though it wobbled.  
  
Castiel squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“Thank you,” Sam blurted, fidgeting with his sleeve. “Thank you for healing my hand and for caring about us. And Dean. And humans. And, and Charlie.” Sam huffed a laugh. “You care about everything. So...thank you. And sometimes we forget that you aren’t just one of us, just a friend. You’re a friggin’ sprite! Nephilim...uh...so...sorry and thanks.”  
  
Castiel’s heart squeezed. Sam was adorable. And he loved his brother fiercely. It gladdened his heart that he had met all these people.  
  
“Charlie is a human,” Castiel grinned.  
  
“I know, but she’s a witch and you respect that. It’s...you’ve really changed everything I ever learned about sprites, Cas.”  
  
“And you have all changed everything I have learned about the world. Look at Dean and Benny. And what Charlie said. Not all monsters want to live in chaos. Not all of them feed on humans. We have got to help those that wish for a better life. There needs to be some sort of equality or law here.”  
  
Sam nodded along. “Yeah. I think you’re right. But I think it’s going to take people like Charlie and Jo, people from Purgatory to stand up for something like that.”  
  
“With our help.”  
  
Sam grinned. “You sound like you’re ready to go to war.”  
  
Castiel frowned. “I never imagined I would even entertain such a thought. But demons are upsetting the balance of things here. With a little help...I think we could tip the scales.”  
  
“You two can plan your war campaign later,” Bobby whispered, directing them toward the group. “We got us a nasty little battle to win right here first.”  
  
Sam nodded, turning to follow Bobby, but stopped when Castiel rested a hand on his arm. “Let me see your hand.”  
  
Sam offered it. It looked thin and wane compared to his other hand which was so large and strong. Castiel took the hand, the thin fingers pressed between both his hands.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t waste your magic on me,” Sam said nervously.  
  
White light glowed brightly as Castiel concentrated. “My grace is never wasted on you, Sam.”  
  
Sam winced and fought to not pull his hand away as Castiel worked quickly to nourish and restore the bones, muscles, and ligaments. He found this healing easier to complete than the others and smiled at Sam’s hand when he finished.  
  
Sam made a slow, gentle fist, laughing. “Wow! It’s a lot better now!”  
  
Dean interrupted the moment with a glad smile at his brother. “Quit holdin’ hands over here and let’s get on with this crazy-ass plan.”  
  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
  
Charlie, Dean, and Castiel climbed down the steep, wooded hillside, entering the town in the southwest corner. By the sun’s position it was after noon.   
  
Dean cleared his throat. “If this plan works, we grab Dad and Cas flies us out immediately. We get back to the others. Then we...”  
  
“We ride like our tails are on fire,” Charlie nodded.  
  
Cas frowned. “Why would we be on fire?”  
  
Dean laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “We ride as fast as we can,” he clarified. “Like they’re already on our trail.”  
  
Cas nodded, Charlie shaking her head with a grin.  
  
They slipped along the tents quietly as Charlie glanced at the dagger. They turned more toward the center of town and the dagger pulsed a light green.  
  
Charlie gave them a thumbs-up and the two followed her lead. They passed a group of demons deep in talk about another group of demons that would arrive tomorrow from another camp. None of them took notice of the three, who stopped to warm their hands at a fire, keeping their backs to them.   
  
They moved on quickly, the green pulse getting brighter with every tent and building they passed.  
  
The problem was, as the dagger lead them closer to the center of town, the more demons there were.  
  
A steady stream of demons headed their way and Castiel ducked into a tent. Dean and Charlie followed, letting out matching sighs from holding their breath.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened and Castiel turned to see two demons sitting on boxes playing cards.  
  
“Who are you?” One said, standing and pulling a knife out slowly. His eyes went back to Castiel. “What are you?”  
  
Castiel began to explain, but Dean had jumped ahead of him, stabbing the demon. The demon surged with orange bolts, mouth agape, as the other demon scrambled off his box to dart away.  
  
Castiel grabbed him, covering his mouth to stop his yelling, feeling his body surge in his arms as his grace killed him.  
  
He and Dean dropped the bodies unceremoniously to the ground. Charlie, still standing just inside the flap of a door to the tent, stared at them both with wide eyes. “Shit,” she squeaked.  
  
“Knife works,” Dean grinned, wiping the blade clean on the dead guy’s shirt, giving Charlie a grin.  
  
“Okay,” she said in a tiny voice, shaking off her initial shock. She turned, peeking out the door. “You guys said the girl, Meg, said something about a sunrise, right?”  
  
Castiel and Dean joined her, peeking through the flap as demons passed by unaware.   
  
“Yeah,” Dean whispered.  
  
“Look. That building on the other side of town, just up the hill. Is that a huge sunrise painted on it?”  
  
Castiel searched the town. All the wooden buildings had graffiti painted on them. Large words, letters, and pictures. He searched further, finding one with a large sunrise painted on it.  
  
“I see it,” Castiel and Dean said at the same time.  
  
They all stepped away from the tent flap.  
  
“That has to be it,” Dean said, gripping the knife as if he was ready to charge ahead.  
  
“We aren’t going to make it through all those demons,” Charlie insisted. “They’re all over the place in the center of town. We should go back, go around the town and come in the other side.”  
  
“That’ll take too long,” Dean argued.  
  
“He’s right,” Castiel said. “The sooner we leave, the better. I’ll fly us there, we get John, and we fly out.”  
  
Charlie put the dagger away, pulling out the Colt instead, giving him a nod. “Let’s do it.”  
  
Dean nodded as well.  
  
Castiel cleared his mind of the demons surrounding them. Centering himself, he tapped into his grace, not controlling it as he had been doing, but becoming one with it. He let it suffuse his body and his mind, giving everything a distant feel. With a tinny taste in his mouth and a hum in his ears, he opened his eyes.  
  
“Whoa,” Charlie gasped softly, stepping back with wide eyes.  
  
Dean did a double take, his eyes widening as well. “Cas?” He asked softly.  
  
Castiel looked at him, everything had a slight bluish-white wash to it. He knew his eyes were glowing. That must be why they both took another wide-eyed step back. He looked to the side, seeing with a thrill his inky black wings spread wide. He curled them close to stay inside the tent, afraid demons might see them.   
  
Charlie began grinning for all she was worth and stepped closer. “Mage of Thursday,” she whispered in awe, bowing her head.  
  
He closed his eyes, seeing the building clearly in his mind. He felt Dean slip his hand, warm and steady, into his. “Cas?”  
  
Castiel flexed his shoulders, holding Dean’s hand firmly. He could feel his wings, the strange muscles he rarely used flexed in the cramped space. He opened his eyes, looking at Dean. “Are you ready?”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows lifted. “To fly? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that.”  
  
Castiel knew he was teasing. His grace dimmed slightly, seeing Dean more normally now. “Dean, Charlie, I need you to picture the building in your mind. You must stay with me.”  
  
Dean nodded. He re-gripped the demon knife in his right hand, holding onto him a little firmer with the left.  
  
Cas reached his other hand out, taking Charlie’s hand. Her excitement and Dean’s look of awe made his grace thrum heavily.  
  
“They might be ready to fight us the second we land, so be ready,” Castiel warned. Dean nodded. He had no idea what flying with humans would do to them. Isaac and Tamara seemed alright, but their flight had been very short. “Close your eyes.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes, gripping Castiel’s hand tighter as Charlie bounced on her feet slightly with excitement. His grace flared and he felt the familiar dip as though he had just backed into a lake. Dean and Charlie gasped. Castiel grinned, flexing his wings.  
  
Dean, having opened his eyes, looked at him in awe-struck wonder. “Cas!” His eyes traveled along the wide breadth of his inky black wings.   
  
Castiel grinned, gripping Dean tight and pictured the building. With a whoosh and a sound of wings, they appeared in front of a wooden building with graffiti covering it. Several demons standing around a metal barrel with a fire in it, jumped back.  
  
“What’s that?!” One gasped.  
  
Amongst the graffiti, the sought-after sunrise painting was above the door. “You did it,” Dean stammered, still getting his feet under him. Charlie let out a squeal of excitement, then immediately aimed her gun at the demons, who took a shocked step back.  
  
Letting go of them, Castiel charged ahead, into the building. He flung the door open, Dean and Charlie running in after him. He closed it and grew the wood to form a solid barrier, keeping the caught off guard demons out. Voices raised in shouts outside and a pounding began on what used to be the door.  
  
Inside the building, a dozen demons got to their feet. “Get John,” he said quietly, spotting a man hanging from a rafter. Dean ran forward, stabbing the nearest demon. A static sound charged from it as orange light glowed from the stab wound and its eyes and mouth. It dropped to the ground, dead.  
  
“Awesome,” Dean grinned, staring at his next victim.  
  
Castiel blocked a demon from stabbing him, putting his hand soundly on his head. The demonic spirit inside him shriveled and screamed, exploding into nothing, leaving the man’s long-dead body to fall to the floor. He did the same to two more as Dean fought his way up the other side of the building.  
  
Charlie shot one of the demons coming after Castiel, the thing jolted and fell to the floor dead, shocking the other demons.  
  
Dean finally reached his father, cutting the rope his bound wrists hung from. John staggered fully onto his feet as Dean pulled a cloth bag off his head. “Dad!”  
  
“Dean!” John was weak and sickly looking, teetering on his feet. Black and blue bruises ringed his wrists and more of every stage marred his arms.  
  
Two demons jumped Castiel from behind. They were nothing compared to the grace that surged from him. He grabbed them both by their heads, slamming them to the floor as Charlie shot two more. His grace surged forth, destroying both demons. He looked up, Dean and John staring at him in awe.  
  
Charlie put the Colt into her jacket, stepping closer to Castiel as one wall rattled loudly with violent banging.  
  
He stood, following Charlie’s worried gaze. The wood splintered loud with a crack as a yellow-eyed demon with a sinister curl to his lip burst through. His eyes widened at the sight before him.   
  
Demons crowded in behind him, their black eyes and hateful stares eager for a fight.  
  
“Just what do we have here,” he said evenly, his yellow eyes flitting from John and Dean to Castiel and Charlie. His snide comment froze on his lips. “A nephilim.”  
  
Castiel could see the true demonic face just outside the plane they were in, where the human vessel he wore would be all the humans saw. He was hideous. Claws extended from his thin, rotted arms. A long, thin tail whipped angrily on the floor, and his head was four ferocious looking animal heads. An eagle, a panther, a fox, and a rat. It was disgusting to look at as the heads jostled and drooled, the panther frothing at the mouth. All their eyes were yellow.  
  
Garish and growing angrier by the second, the demon stepped toward them again. “You shouldn’t be here! Who are you!”  
  
Castiel could feel the reek of sin and smell his discontent.  
  
Dean ran toward him half carrying his father at his side. He saw a dagger in the yellow-eyed demon’s hand. The demon threw it. Castiel flew forward, wrapping Dean and John in his wings, protecting them from the blade. He pulled them all between, making them gasp.  
  
The dagger passed through them as they stood just inside the other plane.  
  
“Noooo!” The yellow-eyed demon roared.  
  
Charlie blanched, having been, to her account, left behind. She fumbled for the gun as Castiel brought them all back into the plane everyone else was on.  
  
The yellow-eyed demon, seeing them, ran toward them, backed by all those creeping into the building.  
  
Charlie jumped, grabbing Castiel’s outstretched hand and he tried to fly, shocked to see he had only managed to pull them into the other plane. The yellow-eyed demon was clinging to Charlie’s arm, fighting the flight.   
  
Charlie gasped and started to scream but Castiel hurled them again, barely having time to see the startled look in Dean’s green eyes before they surged to the mountain top in a great whoosh and beat of wings.  
  
The ground appeared under their feet, solid and unforgiving as they all stumbled onto it. He released them with a shove, whirling to find the yellow-eyed demon now clinging to his right wing. He disappeared into the other plane, twisting and fighting the clawing beast away. He cried out with pain as feathers were torn from him, but he gripped the beast of a man, reappearing on the mountain.  
  
“There!” Dean yelled. He ran toward them but Castiel pulled them into the other plane again. The demon bit his arm, Castiel releasing him in the fray. They faced off as the others glanced all around in the lavender tint of the plane the Earth was on, unable to see them.  
  
“Who are you!” The demon demanded, Castiel’s blood coating the panther lips and running down his chin.  
  
Castiel took a deep breath, his wings arched maliciously, making the demon step back. “I am Castiel. Mage of Thursday. Angel’s son.” The words boomed in the air and seemed to make the demon ill just hearing them. “Are you Azazel?”  
  
The demon panted, doubled over. “I am,” he said slowly. “And you are NOT supposed to be here!” He lunged, attacking Castiel again as claws raked the inside of his right wing again, the multiple heads snapping their jaws at his neck, face, and arms as Castiel fought to hold him away. He was too powerful in this plane and he had to get him away from his wings. He heaved their bodies, throwing them into the vivid colors of the other plane, the pair slamming to the ground.  
  
“There!” Dean and Charlie yelled.  
  
Sam turned; the Colt raised with precision as he fired.  
  
Castiel let go as the bullet sunk square in the demon’s forehead, whizzing just by his own ear.  
  
“NOOOO!!!!” Azazel screamed. His face and body cracked, orange light bursting from within and he shattered in a thunderous burst.  
  
Castiel panted, his wings burned where the feathers had been torn out and the claws had shredded his skin.  
  
Dean ran to him, steadying him. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m...” Castiel sucked in a breath, heaving and forcing his grace to close his wounds. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
Dean could see the bleeding wound on his wing and tried to touch it, his hand passing through. He gave Castiel a desperate, helpless look. Castiel forced himself to focus on the bite on his arm.  
  
Shocked and dazed, the others stared at him. Castiel fought to stay on his feet, knowing the others were watching him and seeing his wings for the first time.  
  
“Dad!” Sam yelled, hugging him. “You’re okay!”  
  
“Mostly,” John grunted, hugging his son weakly, keeping a wary eye on Castiel.  
  
“Go!” Castiel yelled. “Our lead won’t hold for long. They’re coming.” He could feel the demonic energy of the town surging. All their ire searching for them.  
  
Dean and John mounted Impala, who neighed nervously. The others had taken off at a gallop, heading into the woods.  
  
Elizabethville was clamoring below them and Castiel gasped, putting his wings away in the other realm. He strode forward, only the hint of their damage nagging him. His arm healed well enough to ride. He mounted Connie and followed Impala into the gloomy evening.  
  
They rode for hours, heading south. Castiel knew his grace was fading. It surged and dimmed inside him. But they had John back. And Azazel was dead.  
  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
  
They had skirted around the swamp, veering east, further into Purgatory. It was wilder in these parts. Castiel knew there were creatures around them. He could hear them running alongside them at times, see them scurry from the road, and just make out figures hiding as they passed by.  
  
They just kept moving as quickly as possible.  
  
They rode all night, making slow progress on the dark, unkempt roads. The only times they stopped was when they had to fight off a small group of vampires, a larger group of werewolves, and three Leviathan.  
  
Not until the sky was fully light and they found a clearing by a stream did they stop. Dean’s muscles shook with strain. His dad was no small man. Keeping him upright on the horse was taking all the strength he had.  
  
Everyone was exhausted.  
  
Charlie’s horse lay down, saddle and all. She fretted over the animal, barely able to stay on her own feet.  
  
Cas dismounted quickly, going to the horse. He put his palm on her forehead and seemed like he was listening. He stepped back as the horse groaned and got back to its feet. Cas looked wiped out, but went to all six horses, each looking markedly better after his touch.  
  
Dean handed their dad down to Bobby and Sam. They lay him in the dirt by the stream. Cas came to him next, kneeling with a hand to his forehead. Light glowed, dimmed, and glowed again as Cas’ head dropped down and he gasped for a breath, sitting back. “He needs to eat. And drink.” John opened his eyes, staring at Cas with shock.  
  
“Who are you?” John gasped, sitting up.  
  
“I’m Castiel. The messenger that came to see you before the demons took you. Gabriel sent me.”  
  
John gaped at him. “The sprites are gonna help us?”  
  
Castiel nodded, tiredness evident around his eyes and his sluggish movements.  
  
“Cas,” Dean said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. You’re gonna burn yourself out.”  
  
Cas’ blue eyes were pale. He had never seen them so light. It gave the man an ethereal look.  
  
“I can give you all strength to keep moving. You cannot stop yet.” Dean felt a surge of energy push through his body. Cas lifted his hand, palm out. The others all took a step back, their tired shoulders lifting in renewed energy.  
  
Cas dropped to his knees, Dean barely able to stop him by grabbing his coat. He felt Castiel sink and shrink in his hands until all that he held was the shoulder of the coat. Amongst the pile of clothes was the black cat.  
  
Charlie stepped forward, picking up the clothes as Dean cradled the barely breathing cat to his chest. Without a word, she packed his clothes while Dean pulled out the flannel sling.  
  
“What the fuck is going on?” John asked.  
  
“That’s Castiel. Mage of Thursday,” Sam clarified.  
  
Bobby and Jo rummaged for food in the saddlebags.  
  
“Mage of Thursday?” John stared at the cat.  
  
“The Crier. Harbinger,” Sam went on, using the sprite names to clarify further. “He came to the bunker in Lebanon to tell you that Gabriel is willing to fight with us. But you threw him out.” Sam’s annoyance was evident, and John looked at him with some surprise.  
  
“I never dreamed Missouri actually talked to the real Gabriel. The Trickster! I figured if he was even real, he was just messing with us!” John paced toward the stream and back. “I thought it was just a trap.”  
  
Sam relaxed, nodding his understanding. “It wasn’t a trap.”  
  
John rubbed a hand over his mouth. His eyes stopped on Bobby. “Hey, Bobby.”  
  
Bobby smirked. “Evening.”  
  
“I shoulda known you’d be along for this. So, I’m taken and you two,” he looked at Sam and Dean, “went running for Bobby?”  
  
Dean squared his shoulders.  
  
“Pretty much,” Sam nodded. “Several guards were killed. Kate made us take Adam to the Campbells.”  
  
John sighed. “Is Samuel here too?” He looked around the group, his eyes lingering on Charlie and Jo.  
  
“No, he wasn’t invited,” Dean scoffed. “We did leave Adam with him. They left to go back to protect Kate and the bunker from more demons. Ya know, since we did such a shitty job.”  
  
John glared. He shook his head. Their shared frustration with Mary’s family was nothing new. “Well, I’m glad you came. I’ve been near death so many times. How long has it been since I was taken?”  
  
“Almost a month,” Sam admitted quietly.  
  
John nodded. “I know we’re in Purgatory, but where are we?”  
  
“If we keep heading east, we’re about a day from Black Water Ridge,” Charlie said. Waving a hello to him when John looked at her.   
  
“Black Water Ridge?” John frowned. “That area’s full of wendigo.”  
  
“And ghouls,” Charlie added with a helpful nod.  
  
John gave her a curious look. “And you are?”  
  
“Hi. Charlie Bradbury. I’m a witch. Girlfriend of Jo’s.”  
  
“Jo,” John said, staring at the blonde. “Not Ellen’s little girl.”  
  
“Sure am,” Jo grinned.  
  
John laughed softly. “Who woulda ever guessed. Where’s Ellen?”  
  
“My place,” Charlie added. “She’s waiting for us all to come back. She also sent word to Missouri about what was happening.”  
  
John nodded. He eyed Dean and Sam again. “You boys did good. Real good. I didn’t think I was gonna make it out of there.”  
  
“I’d love ta celebrate,” Bobby butt in, “but our energy won’t last. And with Cas out, we gotta keep moving.”  
  
They all agreed, eating quickly and mounting again. John took Connie and Dean kept Cas tucked to his chest. They rode most of the day, staying away from the towns, but skirting a bit closer as they passed Lincoln. Only when they felt far enough away, and the horses became exhausted again, did they stop to camp.  
  
Cas woke up at the smell of cooked food. Dean kept him cradled in his arm as he ate and drank, assuring him he would change back.  
  
John gave the pair a worried look. “Yer awful close to that sprite.”  
  
Dean fought a sigh of annoyance. “We’ve been through a lot.”  
  
John leaned forward, staring at the cat. Castiel had already fallen asleep again. He didn’t say anything as he leaned back, chewing on a thin splinter of wood.  
  
“Why’s he a cat?” John finally asked.  
  
“He tried to get home using Missouri’s spell books. It’s a curiosity spell,” Sam explained. “He’s been with us since we left the bunker.”  
  
“Good thing too, or we never woulda made it,” Dean added.  
  
“That so?” John said, his eyes narrowing at the cat.  
  
“That’s so,” Dean said firmly. “Cas and I -”  
  
“Cas?” John chuckled. “I’m not sure who’s worse. The sprite thinking he’s all-important or the guy worshiping the cat that thinks he’s all-important.”  
  
“Both of those very important people risked their lives to save your important ass, John Winchester,” Bobby barked. “Not to mention all the rest of us pee-ons.”  
  
John held a hand up. “Sorry, Bobby. You’re right,” he sighed tiredly. “I still can’t believe sprites are freakin’ real.”  
  
“I thought you met with Gabriel,” Charlie said, poking the fire.  
  
“No,” John said slowly. “Missouri did. Man, I thought she was gettin’ duped. I shoulda known better than to doubt her.”  
  
“Well, Cas is a friend, that’s for sure,” Jo added.   
  
Dean didn’t care what his dad thought about him and Cas. They were bigger than all that. And he was going to find out sooner or later.  
  
“Me and Cas are...closer than just friends,” Dean said, adjusting the cat in his arms with care to not wake him.  
  
“What?” John chuckled. His smile dissolved at the steady look Dean returned. “You’re...what?”  
  
Dean stared back at him.  
  
“Since when?” John snapped. “There is no way my son is hookin’ up with a friggin’ sprite!”  
  
“Well, we are,” Dean insisted.  
  
John looked stricken. “Dean!”  
  
“I’m sure it seems crazy to you, but it just sorta happened and...” he shrugged, unsure how to justify what he and Cas had.  
  
John sat up, circling his arms around his knees. “He’s powerful, Dean.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“He could take you away. They do that, don’t they? Take humans to...breed with?”  
  
“Only willing ones,” Sam interjected. “And I don’t think Cas would do anything Dean didn’t want him to do. He’s a good guy, Dad.”  
  
John gave his sons an incredulous look. “He’s not a GUY. He’s...you saw him! He has wings! He flies! He destroyed demons just by touching them! Dean, you can’t be serious.”  
  
“Well, I am. I mean, it may not turn into anything serious. I don’t know. Honestly, we barely know each other.”  
  
“You know each other,” Charlie grinned. “You might not know each other’s kind very well, but you know him as well, if not better than, the rest of us. I trust him with my life. And I trust that he’s here to help us. All of us.”  
  
Dean grinned at Charlie across the fire. “You’re right.”  
  
John scoffed, staring into the flames as he sat back. “It ain’t a good idea, Dean. There’s no way one of the seven mages is going to stop what he’s doing to pluck out one human from Lawrence.” He shook his head.  
  
Dean sighed, staring down at the cat. Whatever happened between him and Cas, he vowed to not let his father be the deciding factor. According to his dad, he should be a sheriff. Talk about not knowing someone. Dean had zero interest in becoming Head Sheriff of Lawrence, let alone the sheriff of a smaller town.   
  
“So, you’re gonna go live in Haven?” John asked, worry lacing his words. “Leave your family and be a...what?”  
  
“I’m not leaving Lawrence,” Dean scowled.  
  
John laughed. “Well, I don’t know much about sprites, but how does the Mage of Thursday leave his post?”  
  
Dean looked down at the sleek black fur of the cat. He didn’t know what to say to that. He was tired. They were all tired. He and Cas only had the beginnings of a relationship. Who knew where their paths would lead?   
  
  
  
Dusk was moving in and half of them were asleep when they heard a loud thrashing in the woods outside camp. They were all alert and on their feet when a man walked into their campsite moments later.  
  
He had no weapons. He looked cleaner than anyone they had come across since Jo, Ellen, and Charlie. What Dean could not figure out was whether he had been the source of the thrashing, or had he just killed something that was thrashing. Either way, he was extremely on edge as the man walked straight into their midst.  
  
“Hello,” he said a little melodically. He looked at all of them as if he was searching for someone.  
  
“Hello,” Bobby barked back, his gun staying trained on him.   
  
The guy grinned, not looking afraid whatsoever. “Don’t mind me. I’m just passin’ through.” He frowned, his eyes stopping on Dean.  
  
“We aren’t up for sharing a campfire tonight,” John warned.  
  
The guy strode purposefully toward Dean, stopping when Bobby and John cocked their guns. Dean realized with a cold, sharp panic that the man’s eyes weren’t on him, but Cas. He hugged the cat closer to him, turning away slightly.  
  
“What do you want?” Dean demanded.  
  
The man’s sharp, brown eyes lifted to Dean’s. “Is that...your cat?” His features softened. “I’m sooo allergic. They make me sneeze.”  
  
“Listen buddy,” Bobby started.  
  
Cas had begun to wake up again. His whole body jolted at the sight of the man. Dean tried to contain him, but he squirmed free anyway, running straight to the man.  
  
The guy tucked some brown hair behind his ear and squatted down. “Cassie! I thought that was you! What in the Creator’s name are you doing like that?!”  
  
Cas began meowing and the man just listened, nodding. “I see. Well, that must have sucked. Oh...” he looked up at John, “so you’re John Winchester. We’ve been looking for you.”  
  
John frowned and both men lowered their guns.  
  
“Sorry,” the man laughed down at Cas, “I’m really having trouble taking you seriously like this.” He laughed again, putting his hand on Cas’ head. “A witch, huh?” He looked like he was looking all over Cas’ body. “Alright, I think I got it.” He stood up, snapped his fingers, and Cas was human again, sitting cross legged and naked.  
  
“Nice!” The man laughed. Dean already had his coat off, striding forward to cover him up.  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas nodded, taking the coat, then the breaches Charlie brought him.  
  
After slipping them on, he turned back to the group. “Everyone, this is Gabriel, Mage of Monday, Angel’s Son.” He bowed his head slightly as Gabriel looked around at them.  
  
“Holy shit!” Charlie squeaked, bowing her head, Jo following suit. Bobby gave him a skeptical look. Sam looked awe-struck and John just sighed.  
  
“It’s about friggin’ time!” Dean snapped. “Where have you been? We sure coulda used your help!”  
  
Gabriel gave him a surprised look.  
  
“They aren’t much impressed with titles,” Castiel explained, apologetically.  
  
“Huh. Alrighty. Soooo...I’ve been searching high and low for you.” His eyes were back on Cas now. “You finally started using your grace and I came runnin’. What gives? Where have you been? What have you been doing with these humans?” Gabriel seemed quite confused by the whole situation.  
  
“I took your message to John Winchester. He did not believe I was a nephilim, or sprite, as they call us.”  
  
Gabe nodded. “I heard that part. Then...nothing!”  
  
Cas sighed, rolling his eyes. “I was looking for a way home when I got cursed by a witch. It wasn’t until weeks later that they got me to another witch to partially heal me. I’ve been with these humans, searching for and rescuing John Winchester.”  
  
“On foot,” Gabe deadpanned. “Because you were a cat.”  
  
Cas frowned.  
  
Gabriel burst out laughing. “That is some ridiculously funny shit!”  
  
Cas sighed, but said nothing back.  
  
Gabriel sat by the fire. “Come on! Let’s eat!” He snapped, tables of food and drinks appearing. They all approached the tables cautiously. Gabriel held his hands up with a questioning look on his face. “It’s not gonna bite ya!”  
  
Cas leaned toward him. “You are known as the Trickster here. They probably are worried you tampered with it somehow.”  
  
Gabriel waved his words off. “No time for tricks these days.” His demeanor took on a more serious tone. “War. Cassie. It’s Michael. He’s brewing a war and we have to stop it.” He looked around at the group. “Eat up! We got nephilim asses to kick and other shit to do!”  
  
Dean took the first real steps toward the table, filling a plate with roast beef, potatoes, carrots, fresh baked bread, and some other weird stuff that he had no idea what it was, but smelled delicious. Everyone else followed his lead, sitting around the fire for their first real meal in days.   
  
Once the eight of them were seated around the fire, Gabriel relaxed a bit more.  
  
“The humans think we were little more than a myth,” Cas explained out of nowhere. “Why have we been so separated?”  
  
“Power, my kitty-cat friend. We have too much power to be associating with humans. Or so our ancestors said.” His brown eyes ran over the faces around the fire. “Our ‘magic’ gives us too many unfair advantages over humans.”  
  
Dean couldn’t decide if he liked Gabriel or not. He was arrogant. But funny. And he seemed to be on their side. For the moment, anyway.  
  
“But the humans in Purgatory are hunted and slaughtered. Taken as vessels,” Charlie debated gently. “And starving.”  
  
“Freeland isn’t much better,” Bobby added.  
  
“And they’re pushing their way into Lawrence,” John noted. “Crowley has been left in power for too long. There are more demons in Lawrence than ever before.”  
  
Chills ran down Dean’s spine at the mention of Crowley’s name. On top of the mere reminder of him, was how angry his dad was going to be when he found out about his deal. He flicked a nervous glance at Sam, who returned it, but said nothing. He hoped the others kept their mouths shut until he could tell him himself.  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Missouri told me about your crossroads demon. Trust me, John, he’s the least of your problems. Yeah, you have a leak, but the real problem is in Purgatory. And very soon in Freeland. My brother has taken to aligning himself with demons and Leviathans. Azazel and Alastair, the last of the two princes of Hell, are amassing armies to take over Freeland. Lawrence will be next.”  
  
“I killed Azazel,” Sam said, putting his fork down.  
  
“I highly doubt that,” Gabriel smirked.  
  
“He did,” Cas assured. “He used the Colt.”  
  
Gabriel frowned. “The Colt. It’s a real thing?”  
  
“It is. And he is dead.” Cas nodded gravely.  
  
“Well, well. Good for you. Sam.” The way he said Sam’s name gave the impression he was reading him, knowing something about him by looking at him more closely.  
  
“Thanks,” Sam blushed.  
  
“Is that who damaged your wings?” Gabriel asked, turning to Cas.  
  
Cas nodded.  
  
“Your wings are damaged?” Dean blurted, immediately concerned. He had never seen anything more magnificent than when Cas had spread out his wings, eyes blazing.  
  
“They are healing,” Cas said quietly, giving him a small smile.  
  
“What’s...” Gabriel stopped, his eyes going back and forth between him and Cas. “Cassie, are you...never mind.”  
  
Dean gave Cas a puzzled look, to which Cas shrugged. But he knew more than he was saying. Dean would rather ask him on his own though, not discuss their relationship in front of the whole group.  
  
“Anyway,” Gabe went on more loudly, “that’s pretty awesome you took out Azazel. That will cripple the demon resistance. Unfortunately, that won’t slow Michael down. He’s the one we need to worry about.”  
  
“Isn’t he the most powerful of all the sprites?” Bobby asked, looking worried.  
  
“He’s powerful,” Gabriel agreed. “But I’ve got plenty of juice myself. And Castiel is right there with me on the power level. If the two of us stick together, we can take down Michael. What we can’t do is take down Michael, his whole legion, and armies of demons, and whatever else backs Azazel and Alastair’s plans. Now, that plan? That could wipe out all the humans. He’s powering the demons and Leviathan to take over.”  
  
Dean stared at the man in shock.  
  
Michael.  
  
So much for sprites being vindictive little tricksters. They were grade A dicks. If they aligned with demons and Leviathan, humans were screwed.  
  
“How long have you known about this?” Cas asked.  
  
It was reassuring to Dean that Cas didn’t know these plans. He had thought as much, but it would have really changed things if he was callous to all humans.  
  
“I have suspected for about a year. But I only got proof a few weeks before you came. So, not long.”  
  
“That was months ago,” Charlie said quietly, obviously trying to not anger him, but still raising her point.  
  
Gabriel frowned at her. “Sounds about right.”  
  
“That is a long time for humans,” Cas explained.  
  
“Huh,” Gabriel lifted one shoulder, letting it drop. “Losing track of my cat did slow me down.”  
  
Cas rolled his eyes, making Dean chuckle.  
  
“We’ve seen an army. They were marching south,” Sam added, his dinner forgotten.  
  
“They had hellhounds with them,” Cas added.  
  
“Hellhounds? Where did they scrounge them up from? I thought they were all locked in Hell!” Gabriel shook his head. For the first time, he looked troubled.  
  
“What, sprites have trouble killing hellhounds?” Dean asked.  
  
Gabriel quirked his mouth at Dean. “Yes, Dean. Lucifer made them himself. They’re...shit. I’m gonna have to go see that freakin’ putz, Metatron.”  
  
Cas sighed.   
  
“Is that another sprite?” Charlie asked.  
  
“Yes, he’s head of The Stacks, Haven’s largest library,” Cas explained.  
  
“Bet you two were buds, weren’t ya,” Gabe smirked.  
  
“I wouldn’t classify us as ‘buds’,” Cas frowned, air quoting.  
  
Dean had to grin at that. He could picture Cas geeking out over piles of books in a huge library.  
  
“He’s a very knowledgeable person,” Cas defended.  
  
“He’s a putz,” Gabriel snorted.  
  
Cas shook his head, knowing the argument was moot.   
  
“So,” Jo said cautiously after the conversation lulled for a moment, “what do we do now?”  
  
Gabriel stared at the fire a moment. “Cassie and I go home. You all go home. We have some research to do. And Castiel needs to recruit his legion on board with this.”  
  
“You have a legion?” Dean asked, staring at Cas.  
  
Cas nodded. “I do. The legion of Thursday. Currently around 200 nephilim.”  
  
“Holy shit,” Dean barely whispered. He had not thought about Cas being in control of a whole group of people like that. There were around 200 people in Lebanon. There were around 5,000 humans on Earth. No one knew for sure how many monsters there were, but the number was less or equal to the number of humans. “How many sprites are there?”  
  
Cas frowned, looking at Gabriel. “Maybe...two thousand?” Gabriel nodded. “Michael and I have two to three hundred in our legions. The others have one to two hundred each. Then there’s The Garden. No more than two thousand.”  
  
“Missouri told us there used to be billions of humans here. Billions! I can’t imagine it!” Sam shook his head in disbelief.  
  
“I’ve read that as well,” Cas nodded. “There used to be great cities full of machines and electricity.”  
  
They all wondered at the thought.  
  
Bobby stared hard into the fire, jaw firm in thought. “Well, all that’s going to be left is rubble and human farms for Leviathan and demons to eat and take vessels from if we don’t stop this war.”  
  
“Very true,” Gabriel nodded, no humor lacing his voice this time. “But I will warn you, nephilim are difficult to talk into any kind of battle against each other. It’s one of our top ten on the ‘Do Not’ list.” His eyes dropped to the fire. “We know damn well that our ancestors are the very reason we live like we do today. There was a thriving world of humans here. The leviathan were locked away. The other monsters were few and mostly hidden. Angels stayed in Heaven.” His eyes ticked back up to Bobby. “It’s our fault that Heaven and Hell are locked away and gone. It’s our responsibility to stay away from humans the best we can and leave you to live the lives our creator gave you. We might be cheap copies...but we remember our past.”  
  
“But...we aren’t thriving,” Charlie insisted. “We’re being eaten away. Bobby isn’t wrong. There’s already a human ‘farm’ in northeast Purgatory somewhere. We can’t find it, but there are too many rumors for it to not be true.”  
  
Gabriel frowned. “That’s the exact kind of thing our ancestors were avoiding by living apart.” He tossed a stick into the fire. “People suck. All of them. Angels, demons, humans, vampires, ghouls. There’s good and bad in all kinds of people. The problem is, how to balance it out. Fuckin’ bastards. Farms.” He tossed another stick in, disgust all over his face. “Like I said...it’s not easy to get nephilim to fight. But I’ll try. I sent Castiel to tell John that we would try. Now that I have Castiel back, I might actually get somewhere.”  
  
Dean didn’t like the sound of any of that. Was Cas leaving him? As soon as he asked himself the question, he realized how selfish it was. He had his dad back. Now they needed to think about war. Not just what could become of him and Cas. He stared down at the ground in front of him. Cas wasn’t his to have. He knew that. But it hurt all the same.  
  
He ran his thumb over the sigil of their group. He might never see Cas again. Sprites could fly. He could leave right this minute. He could disappear. It was a wonder he had not left already. He might not see Cas again until they needed this sigil in the Veil. But Dean’s soul might never make it there. Not if it belonged to Crowley. Panic welled up in his stomach until his mouth tasted of acid.  
  
With the world at the brink of war, there was no time to stop and take care of one measly soul. His small life was insignificant compared to what lay ahead. He had to remember that.  
  
  



	17. By Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a looong chapter full of a lot. Gabriel answers lots of questions and brings about some more. Dean and Cas earn this fics explicit rating;)  
> Enjoy!

Chapter 17: By Wing  
  
  
Castiel’s mind clicked slowly and patiently over the news Gabriel had brought him. Michael was behind the demons rising to power. A nephilim, HIS brethren, was helping to organize and harness a force of evil against humanity. The thought made him sick. Humans were the weakest of all the races as far as powers and grace. Leviathan, vampires, and demons were difficult to kill and did not age. All kinds of monsters were stronger physically than humans. And so many of them preferred humans to eat. But even humans had found small niches into the supernatural world. They had witches. And some of them were powerful. Even more than that, of all the species, humans were the most adaptable. They survived many things it seemed they weren’t meant to. The apocalypse. Plagues. The cruel environment. And they did it without feeding off or abusing another people. They found their own way to survive. Castiel felt nothing but pride when he thought about the group of humans he had traveled with.  
  
A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Okay, he had thought about more than simply pride. Dean, for one, elicited a slew of emotions and ‘thoughts’.  
  
His smile faded as Gabriel got to his feet, waving the food away.  
  
Castiel got to his feet, the others rising one by one.  
  
Gabriel stared around the circle. “Thank you for taking care of my brother. It’s a dangerous world for man or beast, let alone one small kitty cat.” He smirked a grin at Castiel, but he knew the sentiment was no less sound.  
  
“He protected us too,” Dean said quietly, eyes on the fire rather than looking at anyone.  
  
Cas was sure Dean had doubts. He always did. And he was sure he had questions. But now was not the time to pull him aside. All he could do was reach over and take his hand. Dean jumped only slightly as his green eyes darted to him.  
  
Doubt. He knew it. Dean was always full of doubt. But he took Castiel’s hand regardless. Castiel chose not to take his lack of faith in him personally. It was a part of who he was. He also noticed the uncomfortable look John gave them.  
  
For now, it was fine. But he aimed to change John’s opinion of the nephilim and Dean’s doubtful nature. He vowed in his mind to teach Dean Winchester to trust fully. To have faith. And to love wholly. He smiled at just the mere chance of teaching such lessons.  
  
Gabriel went on, much more to the point than Castiel had ever seen him before. “Let’s move this party somewhere safer. There’s a horde of demons tracking you. And vampires are seriously fast.”  
  
“Where should we go?” Sam asked, stepping forward.  
  
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his chin with his finger in thought.   
  
“Can you fly out of Purgatory?” Castiel asked, the thought just occurring to him for the first time. “How did you get here in the first place?”  
  
Gabe glanced around at the woods. “We should...go...”  
  
Charlie stepped closer to Gabriel, bowing her head slightly. “We could go to my house. It’s in Purgatory if that helps.”  
  
Gabriel, without warning, reached out and put his hands on her head. Charlie jerked in his grip slightly, looking stunned.  
  
“What are you doing?” Jo snapped, coming at him.  
  
Gabriel let go and Charlie staggered back a step into Jo’s outstretched hands. “That was...bizarre!” She stammered, clutching Jo’s arm.  
  
“That’ll work,” Gabriel grinned, snapping his fingers.  
  
Gabriel, Jo, Charlie, Bobby, John, Sam, and all the horses disappeared.  
  
“Where’d they go?!” Dean gasped, gripping Castiel’s hand tighter.  
  
“I’m guessing they went to Charlie’s, but I’m not sure,” Castiel replied, unable to predict Gabriel’s moves.  
  
“IF HE -”  
  
“If I what?” Gabriel asked with a smirk, startling Dean right into Castiel’s side, making Castiel glower at his fellow mage.  
  
Gabriel stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “We’ve got company of the blood-sucking sort. Let’s skedaddle, eh?”  
  
“To Charlie’s?” Castiel whispered, wrapping an arm around Dean.  
  
“Yep.” Gabriel snapped and was gone.  
  
Castiel gave Dean what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  
  
“This mean I get to see your wings again?” Dean grinned.  
  
Castiel let his arm fall. “Do they...make you uncomfortable?”  
  
Dean huffed a tight laugh. He leaned forward, straightening his jacket unnecessarily. “I kinda dig the wings.”  
  
Castiel searched Dean’s face. The boyish grin widened as he took a step back, biting his lip, watching him. Castiel grinned.  
  
Dean liked his wings.  
  
His grace thrummed with pride. More easily than ever before, he pulled his wings from the other plane and watched in a haze of bluish white as Dean’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip again. That sweet, plump lip that he had tasted. He stepped forward, kissing Dean with heat and joy churning inside him.  
  
Their mouths met without hesitation as they wrapped their arms around each other. Dean’s hands slid around his back as Castiel could feel his wings wrap around them. His tongue slid, Dean parting his lips so easily to take him in. His fingers slid through Dean’s hair, gripping slightly as he pulled them into the other plane.  
  
Feeling the pull, Dean pulled back, sucking in a breath. The rest of the world had a slightly lavender tint to it, unlike the two of them in full, vibrant color. Dean peeked over the crest of the wing with wide eyes.  
  
“Cas? Where are we?”  
  
Castiel wrapped his wings a little tighter, his feathers caressing Dean’s back. “We’re in the plane where my wings are.”  
  
Shocked, Dean reached a hand out slowly, his fingertips touching his feathers with the lightest touch. He jerked his hand back, meeting his eyes with a startled look. “I can feel them!”  
  
Castiel watched him. Watched every emotion cross his face and all the thoughts drift behind his eyes. He lowered his right wing slowly, trying not to wince at the painful injury that had already healed a great deal. His left wing swept over Dean’s back and shoulders, feeling him.  
  
Dean laughed, turning to hold his hands out, letting Castiel slide his wing over them slowly. “They’re so...soft! And...like velvet!” Dean turned more, following the movement of the feathers until his back was against Castiel’s chest. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, perching his chin on his shoulder as he brought the wing back for Dean to feel.  
  
Dean ran one hand over the top, thick ridge, mouth agape and eyes still wide. Then he ran both hands down the top ridge, marveling.  
  
Every caress felt as intimate as if he were rubbing his hands down his bare chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Dean. Leather, horse, sweet grass. Dean. His nose nestled tighter to his neck as Dean’s hands explored lower into the underside of his wing, combing through the feathers. His own mouth parted at the sensation. He found Dean’s skin with his lips, kissing the tender slope of his neck. Dean’s fingers raked softly through the shiny, black feathers again.  
  
Desire coiled and flared inside him and Dean took a sharp breath, hands fisting into them.  
  
“Cas,” Dean whispered.  
  
Castiel sucked the skin he caressed with his tongue, feeling Dean go weak in the knees. He tipped his head, baring more skin, which Castiel took eagerly.  
  
A moan drifted from the man, making his wings shiver. Dean ran his hands through them again. “Does it,” he gasped a breath, his hips pressing back firmly against his. “Does it feel good when I touch your wings?”  
  
“Immensely,” Castiel said, watching goosebumps spread over his damp skin. His wing curled tightly, puffing as the feathers rippled beyond his control. He had never felt his wings do that and made them both look at the wing in wonder.  
  
Dean smoothed the feathers in front of him then turned in his arms, kissing him deeply. Dean was gripping his coat with one hand, the other cupped around the back of his neck. Castiel delved deeper, wrapping his wings around them again. He winced at the pain, interrupting their kiss.  
  
Dean, pulling his mouth away to look at him, blinked. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Castiel grit his jaw, moving his right wing away. Dean, noticing the way the wing moved differently than the other, gently cupped the top ridge, eyes searching the black feathers. The moment he saw the wound, he stepped back.   
  
“Cas! You’re hurt!”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Cas assured him.  
  
“I, I forgot you said your wing was hurt!” Dean’s hands fretted over the shiny black feathers, barely touching any of them.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel said more sternly, gently gripping his arm to get his attention. “I will heal. But...we should go.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said more readily this time. “Yeah, we should...fly, or whatever.”  
  
Castiel grinned. Dean was worried about him. That had to be a good sign. He cared. “Let’s go to Charlie’s,” he whispered, kissing him. They wrapped their arms around each other again and Castiel flew them to Charlie’s in a painful flutter.  
  
  
  
***********************************************  
  
  
  
Dean felt a rush stronger than just the leaping desire in his chest. His heart fluttered with the sound of wings as his eyes squeezed shut. He clung to Castiel, not that the sprite would have let him go as the world whirled away. He gasped, hugging Castiel tight as he felt ground suddenly solid beneath his feet again. He teetered, as if he would have staggered a step, but Castiel held him steady.  
  
He loosened the hug, kissing him once on the lips, loving how it made him smile. No matter what happened, he knew that Cas really did care about him. He could feel it.  
  
He stepped back, dabbing his damp lips with his sleeve as he looked at Cas again. His ashy black wings stretched out lopsidedly before disappearing.  
  
Cas’ shoulders relaxed and his eyes opened a bit easier with his painful wing put away.  
  
“Wow,” Sam chuckled. “My ride wasn’t quite that nice.”  
  
Dean turned, blushing.  
  
Gabe scoffed. “I’ll be sure to upgrade you on your next flight.”  
  
Sam grinned at him, shaking his head.   
  
“I’ll pass on the upgrade, thanks,” Bobby smirked, standing with his arm around Ellen. She smacked his chest lightly, laughing.  
  
Gabe perked an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Come on in. Ash and I were just about to eat,” Ellen said, waving them forward. “Gabriel already took care of the horses and tack for you.”  
  
Dean glanced at the field, seeing all their horses roaming around inside the fenced pasture.  
  
“The field is warded,” Charlie smiled, knowing he was going to ask.  
  
Dean grinned at her. “You’re awesome, Charlie!”  
  
She slung an arm over Jo’s shoulder as they walked into her house, tossing a grin over her shoulder at him.  
  
“Took you long enough to get here,” Gabe said quietly next to Cas. “Is he bonded to you?”  
  
Cas stiffened as Dean gave him a curious glance.  
  
“No.”  
  
“What’s that?” Dean asked as Gabriel gave Cas an understanding nod.  
  
“Means you have to wait here.” Gabe gripped Cas’ shoulder as Cas looked at him with his head tipped in confusion.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when the pair were gone, just disappearing. “Cas!”  
  
Sam arched one eyebrow, having watched the whole thing. His dad looked less curious and more distrustful.  
  
“He’ll be back, dude,” Ash grinned, patting Dean on the shoulder as he walked into the house.  
  
Dean tried to grin like he knew that to be true but the knot in his stomach twisted hard.  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Cas felt the mighty tug unexpectedly at his center and heard the loud flutter of wings as Gabriel’s materialized and winged them away.  
  
They both staggered a step as Gabriel landed in a dry, dismal patch of woods. The trees were all as thin as saplings but tall as the mighty red wood trees in Haven. Their bark was smooth and gray, as was the bare ground and bleak sky.  
  
Gabriel released his shoulder, stepping back from him.   
  
“Where are we?” He asked, his voice seeming to skip along the forest.  
  
“Ash Forest,” Gabriel answered. “Way up north in Purgatory. Not really important right now except that there aren’t any vampires lurking around and listening in.”  
  
“Why did you bring me here?” Castiel asked, starting to worry about what exactly Gabriel was up to.  
  
“Ash Forest is several hundred miles of...this,” Gabriel gestured with a flippant hand out. “Nothing much lives here, so I knew we could talk.”  
  
“About what?” Castiel asked, glancing around the odd woods with a growing awareness of feeling creeped out.  
  
“What’s the situation, here with you two?” Gabriel asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Castiel swallowed, feeling exposed about the relationship that even he and Dean had barely talked about. “We are...courting,” Castiel said quietly, knowing Dean would tease him for even using that expression.  
  
“Courting?” Gabriel studied him with a nod of growing understanding. “Sooo, you haven’t had sex.”  
  
“No,” Castiel pulled back with irritation.  
  
“Is he...marked?” Gabriel asked, making Castiel squirm.  
  
“No.” He looked away uncomfortably.  
  
Gabriel started to say something, caught Castiel’s glare and snapped his jaw shut. “M kay,” Gabriel said, switching gears. “Do you really trust these humans?”  
  
“I do,” Castiel assured him. “But you are making this more difficult by disappearing without any explanations. Humans are very distrustful of nephilim.”  
  
“So,” Gabriel went on, narrowing his eyes, “you trust them all. You got the hots for the human guy. But you haven’t marked him or bonded to him? Sounds real cozy, Cassie.”  
  
“I was a cat for most of this journey, Gabriel. Dean and I did not develop a relationship until a few days ago.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “So, I brought you here to talk. Really talk.”  
  
Castiel shook his head no.  
  
“No?” Gabriel laughed with a short temper.   
  
“This is causing more distrust. We need to be absolutely certain that they trust us, and we trust them.”  
  
“Sooo...” Gabriel held his hands out.  
  
“I’ll talk when Dean can listen as well.”  
  
Gabriel shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He was gone, only to return in an instant with one bewildered, then quickly pissed off Dean Winchester.  
  
“Dude! I was in the middle of a conversation!” Dean yelled, looking around the gray woods with hunching shoulders. “Where are we? This place looks creepy as shit.”  
  
“One unbonded and unmarked human,” Gabriel said dryly to his brother, letting go of Dean’s arm. Dean quickly moved to Castiel’s side with a suspicious look aimed at Gabriel. “Now can we talk?”  
  
Castiel glanced at Dean, who was frowning and trying to follow along. “Yes. I trust Dean, and the others with my life.”  
  
Dean shuffled from one foot to the other, looking slightly  
mollified.  
  
“Fine, the human can hear then.”  
  
“Dean,” Castiel said tightly.  
  
“DEAN can hear. Information, I might add, that is kept sworn to ONLY those who qualify to use it. That is a whopping total of four nephilim. Zero humans.”  
  
Dean settled back into a stubborn stance, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at Gabriel.  
  
Gabriel stared back, his head cocked to the side. “Are they all like this?”  
  
“No,” Castiel answered, hating how Gabriel talked about humans as a race, but completely understanding his shock at how little respect they bestowed.  
  
“Listen here, Trickster. That’s what us humans call you. The pain in the ass sprite that trick people into their own demise. A squirrelly, plotting, no-good little imp that thinks he’s better than all us humans. That’s what I know about you sprites.”  
  
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Trickster. I kinda remember reading about that. But that was all before The War of the Peoples. Before we sunk the strait.”  
  
Castiel looked between the two anxiously. “I hope you can understand, Gabriel, why they fear and do not trust us.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “We’ve grown a lot since then, Dean. Nephilim law says we can’t interfere with humans and monsters. But Michael broke the deal, giving me ample reason to intervene.”  
  
Dean nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit.   
  
Gabriel turned back to Castiel, back on point. “I brought Dean along because you insisted. I thought you two might have sealed the deal. You look different. Smell different. I thought you bonded.”  
  
“No. It must be the spell. When my grace gets too low, or I seem to be fully at rest, I revert into a cat. It is most inconvenient.”  
  
“What is this shit about being bonded?” Dean blurted.  
  
Gabriel nodded, ignoring Dean. “And why is Dean covered in something...dark? There’s something encasing his whole body.”  
  
Dean’s shoulders tightened again. “I had to make a deal with Crowley. We couldn’t afford passage to get to Purgatory.”  
  
Gabriel frowned. “What kind of deal?”  
  
Dean shifted again, his eyes darting to Castiel hesitantly before his chin jutted up defensively. “Sold my soul.”  
  
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Your soul?” He looked back at Castiel with expectation. “No wonder you haven’t bonded.”  
  
“Again, with the bonding!” Dean complained, throwing his hands up in frustration.  
  
Castiel cleared his throat. “Can you fix it?”  
  
“Fix it?” Gabriel scoffed. “I don’t...I’ve never done anything like that. Let me read the contract.”  
  
Dean frowned harder. “It’s kinda...hidden.”  
  
Gabriel stepped closer to him, reaching out but waited. “May I?”  
  
He was sure Dean would say no, but to his surprise, Dean held his arms open, with a look of reluctance.  
  
Gabriel stepped up to him, putting his hands on Dean’s head, like he had done with Charlie. He closed his eyes as Dean’s widened and the bright writing lit up all over the little bit of skin he could see and glowed through his clothes. The writing dimmed and Gabriel stepped back with a sigh. “I could try. But if it doesn’t work, Dean dies immediately and goes to Crowley.”  
  
Dean shivered, shrugged a shoulder with a look of disgust and shook his head. “Forget it. I’ll just wait. Somebody has to know how to do it, right?”  
  
Castiel wanted to reassure him, but Gabriel had been his best hope. Something in Dean’s eyes died. He nodded, looking at the gray dirt at his feet that was slowly clinging to all their boots and pants. He looked back up at Gabriel with calm. “What’s this super-secret information you brought us here for?”  
  
“Not so fast,” Gabriel held a hand up. “You insist on Dean knowing every damn thing, then I insist he be marked.”  
  
“Marked? What’s that?” Dean asked, completely annoyed at this point.  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel scolded. “That is not necessary.”  
  
“Yes, it is.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, feet shoulder-width apart. “I demand it. I’m about to tell you something completely secret to most of our own people. I’ll be damned if he knows anything without being marked.”  
  
Even Dean had taken a step back at Gabriel’s spike of authority.  
  
Castiel turned to Dean. “Gabriel would never require it if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”  
  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest, looking as close to intimidating as Gabriel, which was saying something.  
  
“Being marked is swearing an allegiance to a mage. You are sworn to the loyalty of that legion and mage, agreeing to be called upon by its mage.”  
  
“You,” Dean half asked, half clarified.  
  
“Yes. Me. Thursday.”  
  
Dean licked his lips, staring at him hard. He looked at Gabriel. “Or?”  
  
“Or nothing. You go back and just take my word for what’s going on behind the scenes,” Gabriel stated.  
  
Dean gave an uncomfortable shift in his stance. “Allegiance?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel explained. “To me. It is a means of holding nephilim loyal or showing just how specifically loyal to their mage they are.”  
  
“So, I would...” Dean shook his head, wanting further clarification.   
  
“Belong to the legion of Thursday,” Gabriel supplied. “And in the eyes of nephilim, you belong to Castiel. No side hook-ups with other nephilim,” Gabriel winked, cheekily.  
  
Castiel closed his eyes, wishing Gabriel would shut up.  
  
“That is not...” Dean scowled, “I’m not out ta hook-up with sprites.”  
  
“So, problem solved,” Gabriel smirked. “Or I take you back.”  
  
Castiel was frowning hard. “It has nothing to do with sex, Gabriel.” He looked at Dean, holding his gaze. “It’s to assure loyalty to a mage. We do not use it much anymore. When humans do it, we see it more as belonging to a specific mage, but I in no way ‘own’ you.”  
  
Dean blew out a breath. “Fine. Whatever. Mark me. Jeez. It sounds so...dirty.”  
  
Castiel shifted on his feet nervously now. “You’ll have to remove your shirt,” he said quietly.  
  
Dean sighed with annoyance. “This is bullshit.”  
  
“It’s actually considered an honor,” Gabriel said in annoyance.  
  
“Sounds like I’m gonna go home belonging to too many fucking people,” Dean bit back, tugging his shirt off, holding it in one hand.  
  
Castiel turned to him, wishing this were under much different circumstances. “Do you swear to be true, loyal, and of service to no other legion first than Legion of Thursday and to me, Castiel, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son?” Castiel asked in a rush.  
  
Dean studied him, his annoyance abating. “To you, Cas. I do.” It was much more sincere than Castiel had expected.  
  
He put his hand on Dean’s upper arm. “By the grace of my lineage, the soul of my ancestors, I take you, Dean Winchester, son of the House of Winchester, to be my confidant,” he let the grace of tying loyalty together flow from his hand to mark Dean, “my sworn defender, and my true kin.” He let the mark sear into Dean’s skin, seeing him flinch and fight to not pull away. “Do you swear?”  
  
“I swear!” Dean winced, eyes watering.  
  
Castiel tied the mark and rushed a cool, healing sensation before withdrawing his hand.  
  
Dean looked down at the red, raised handprint on his arm. “Damn,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over it. “That fucking hurt.”  
  
“My apologies,” Castiel said quietly.  
  
Dean met his eyes, glancing back to Gabriel. “Can I get dressed now?”  
  
“Up to you,” Gabriel shrugged.  
  
Dean pulled his shirt over his head, brow still furrowed. He looked back to Castiel. “So...not that I’m gonna, but what happens if I betray you?”  
  
Castiel cleared his throat, knowing Dean did not realize just how sacred and special this was. “Your mark would burn. And I would know. Not the exact betrayal, but that you had betrayed me.”  
  
“It’ll fry your arm,” Gabriel said coldly. “Don’t sugar-coat it, Cassie.”  
  
Dean tugged his shirt into place. “Okay, so what’s so friggin’ secret that I just got marked for?”  
  
Gabriel looked at Castiel in bewilderment. “I really don’t get the appeal!”  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel said tightly.  
  
He rolled his eyes with one last hesitant look at Dean before going on. “Billie is the Master of Wards. The wards weren’t just set and left. They’re guarded and managed by Billie in The Garden. If you have wings, you’re allowed to know that she can lift wards if you ask her real nice. You must have MAJOR reason to lift a ward. It took me months of angling, but she let me come here. So, I can get back to Haven once. Then my deal is over. But now that I’m IN Purgatory, I can fly wherever inside this country.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “That’s why I could fly in Elizabethville and Lincoln, because I was in Purgatory, within the warded zone.” It made more sense now. “And how did you get me to Lawrence?”

“I had that already set up. I managed to tamper with one of the wards. The one to Lawrence. I had planned on going to see John myself, but Michael got awfully curious about my comings and goings. I figured he would never suspect a thing if you went. I mean, you’re the new kid. What would you possibly know about the world outside of Haven? Michael doesn’t even know you can fly! Unless of course word got out.”

“You assumed I would return immediately?” Cas asked.

“I figured I’d come pick you up. I just needed to throw Michael off for a day. I never dreamed you’d end up going native and disappearing on me.”

Castiel gave him an unamused look.

“How did you find him?” Dean asked.

“Cassie used his grace. I felt it. I’ve been here for days, wandering around looking for you, Cassie. I almost left and then there was a big burst yesterday. Luckily, you used more today, plus a trail of dead vamps, werewolves, and Leviathan. Then I sorta lost you again but kept looking and lucky me, stumbled into camp Save-John.”  
  
Castiel sighed. “How will we get them home?”  
  
“Same way I sent you to Lawrence. Hopefully Billie will never notice one little dented ward if we all keep a low profile.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “So, we ride to Stockville, board the ship, leaving Purgatory and...”  
  
“Open water is free flying,” Gabriel grinned.  
  
Castiel nodded again, putting the plan together. “We fly to Lawrence.”  
  
“Bingo,” Gabriel grinned. “We drop off the kids and you and I go home.”  
  
Castiel met Dean’s worried eyes.  
  
“And no one needs to know the ins and outs of our little flying system. Right, Dean-O?”  
  
Dean looked away from him, meeting Gabriel’s eyes. “Right.”  
  
“Okay, back to the witch’s house.” He snapped and disappeared.  
  
Dean turned to him quickly. “What is bonding?”  
  
Castiel shifted on his feet. “I...it’s...I’ll explain later.”  
  
“Later when?” Dean frowned.  
  
“We should go,” Castiel said, trying to avoid the entire discussion.  
  
“Cas.”  
  
Castiel felt bad, but Dean was frustrated enough as it was. “Tonight. I’ll explain tonight.”  
  
“Fine,” Dean huffed.  
  
Castiel held out his hand.  
  
The annoyed look on Dean’s face wavered as his wings came out. Castiel tried not to chuckle, making Dean annoyed, which he pulled off poorly as his eyes betrayed him, running along his wings with appreciation.  
  
Dean took his hand and they flew to Charlie’s.  
  
Dean stifled his gasp at the flight, letting go of Castiel’s hand as they heard an irate Bobby yelling at Gabriel, then turned his red face toward Castiel.  
  
“Quit doin’ that! Ya can’t just grab people and leave with no explanation!”  
  
“My apologies,” Castiel said solemnly, bowing his head.  
  
Bobby turned his glare back on Gabriel.  
  
“Won’t happen again!” Gabriel said quickly, holding a hand up in sworn promise. Or fear.  
  
Bobby could be intimidating when angered.  
  
Like a bear.  
  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
  
They all piled into Charlie’s tiny house. Last time they were here, Thursday had turned into Castiel, mage of whatever. It was weird. All of it.  
  
Gabriel leaned against the counter, looking around Charlie’s kitchen with barely contained curiosity.  
  
“Can we get to the planning stage of this mess?” John barked, everyone quieting down to listen. Dean had seen his father taking charge of a room. What he had not seen, was the tempered attention the mages gave him.  
  
Gabriel took control of the room easily. Even though the guy was on the small side, his presence was commanding, nonetheless. “Castiel and I need to go to Haven. We have research and recruiting to do. John, you need to round up your troops. Your people need to understand that war is coming. Freeland doesn’t stand a chance against the armies of demons headed its way. Make them understand.”  
  
John, not used to taking orders, nodded stiffly.  
  
“We’ll take whoever wants to leave Purgatory to Lawrence. We can regroup later to see how our recruiting is going.”  
  
“Wait!” Charlie held up a hand. “Maybe we can help you. We could talk to the other sprites, er, nephilim, with you. Help them see what’s happening here.”  
  
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “It’s a thought...” They all waited as Gabriel narrowed his eyes further, finger crooked to his chin in contemplation. “Let’s see how our recruiting goes before I bring in the big guns.” He grinned at her. Dean was sure Gabriel took her seriously, even if she was a tiny, usually smiling thing.  
  
Charlie grinned.  
  
  
  
********************************************  
  
  
  
Gabriel went to Stockville to find out when the ship left next for Freeland. As the others gathered around Charlie’s table, Dean pulled Cas aside.  
  
“Time to talk.”  
  
Castiel nodded, pressing his lips in a firm line.  
  
Before they could leave, Gabriel was back.  
  
“Tomorrow morning, bright and early,” he announced, sitting at the table.  
  
Cas cleared his throat. “We’ll meet you at the dock. Dean and I need to...talk.”  
  
Dean wanted to die a little. His dad and brother both gave him anxious looks. Bobby and Gabe smirked. Jo and Charlie exchanged a grin that made Dean roll his eyes. What made him hesitate was a look between Cas and Gabe that didn’t have anything to do with teasing or humor. Whatever was going on, he was going to find out.  
  
Castiel tipped his head toward the door. Dean followed him, turning back to Sam. “Don’t leave here without Impala.”  
  
Sam huffed a laugh, “As if.”  
  
Dean nodded, his eyes running over the group. This was going to work. It had to. His eyes landed back on Sammy. “See you in the morning.”  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
They stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind them. Cas’ wings came out in a huge smokey black array that Dean had to admit was an amazing fucking sight. Every time Cas did this, his eyes got so bright blue that light glowed from them. He bit his lip as he longed to touch those feathers again.  
  
As Cas’ eyes dimmed to their regular shade of the most beautiful blue he had ever seen, he stepped closer. “Where you takin’ me?”  
  
“Ellen’s old place,” Cas said quietly, taking Dean’s hand with a warm smile. “If that is okay with you.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Might be overrun with demons.”  
  
“Then we’ll get out of there immediately.”  
  
Dean nodded, squeezing Cas’ hand. “Let’s go.”  
  
Cas’ eyes glanced at his mouth before meeting his eyes again. He looked down, closing his eyes as if he was concentrating. Just when Dean was going to ask him if something was wrong, his world yanked away with the sound of fluttering wings in his ears. He gripped Cas tight and steadied his stance as his feet were suddenly rooted to Ellen’s kitchen floor.  
  
They both took a quick breath, looking around. Without a word, they checked every room for invaders. Fortunately, the apartment was empty.  
  
Dean looked at the emptied kitchen. “We didn’t bring any food for breakfast.”  
  
Castiel grinned, laying a bag on the table. “I brought breakfast.”  
  
Dean relaxed a bit. There were still blankets and pillows on the beds in Jo and Ellen’s rooms. They were set for the night, as far as he could tell. Cas stood there seeming to be waiting for something. The mood between them had changed. What had been sparking below the surface had cranked up to a low buzzing in Dean’s mind, a rush of heat that flushed his skin, and a constant need to breathe evenly. He could feel the mark. But that wasn’t it. The bit of time they’d spent kissing and Dean feeling his wings...yes...that was it. The wings. Moving velvet. Thick and soft and controlled by the most beautiful creature Dean had ever seen. He pushed the memory of Cas’ lips on his neck and velvet, lush nirvana of Cas’ wings out of his mind the best he could. They had shit to talk about. He pulled a kitchen chair out, sitting at the table. “I need you to explain what Gabriel was talking about and why it freaked you out so much.”  
  
Cas sat at the table next to him, pushing the bag over to prop an elbow on the worn, scratched surface of the wooden table. He stared down at one of the scratches, feeling it with his fingers. He seemed to be searching for the right words, only adding to Dean’s worry.  
  
“I am a mage. One of the seven. The third most powerful mage in the world. I am more powerful than a Mage of Thursday has been in quite some time. They will expect me to have children. Soon.”  
  
Dean sat back in his chair, watching Cas carefully.  
  
“I would, had this trip not occurred, have gone to The Garden for a Creation party. They would bring in Eligibles and I would choose who I felt most compatible with. The Eligibles, if they chose to, would come home with me and we would have time to get to know each other more. Then, I would be expected to choose a mate. I would not have to bond with them, but if we decided to, we could.”  
  
“Yeah, what exactly does that mean?” Dean prodded, already connecting the dots to what he suspected. He rubbed a nervous hand over his newly acquired mark.   
  
Cas continued to stare at his fingers tracing the gouge and went on quietly. “When a mage bonds, they seal their soul to another’s using their grace. It forms a bond that stays with you until death. Not all the seven are bonded. Mages of Friday and Saturday rarely ever bond, wanting to mate more openly. But when you are as powerful as I am, lineage gets traced, and we would be expected to have multiple children.”  
  
Dean’s brows shot up. ‘We.’ As in Cas had already had his party and got to know him, marked him, thought of him as a mate? To possibly BOND with? “We!”

Castiel pressed his lips together, ducking his head slightly. “I am serious, Dean. Very serious. About you.”

Dean stared at him, his stomach swirling.

“Are you not...serious?” Castiel asked, looking guarded.

Dean immediately missed the free sunshine of Castiel’s warm looks. “Yeah, Cas. I’m serious about us. I am. But...you’re talking about being...together. Like...permanently!”

Cas frowned.

Dean felt guilty. “Okay, okay. I’m very serious!” He winced at the implication of the thought. Cas just said ‘we’ and ‘have children’ in the same damn sentence. “I just...I need a second to, shit. I gotta wrap my head around this.”

Castiel nodded, waiting patiently.

Dean stared at him for a few seconds. 

“I’m very attracted to you, Dean.”

Well damn. Dean blushed. He knew as much, but Cas was so freaking awkward about all this! “I get that, Cas. But we kinda missed some steps here. Like...I don’t know! Dating! Meet the folks, long talks about what we want with our lives!”

“I have met your father. And we have had talks. Though some of them were quite one-sided due to my being a cat.”

Dean blinked at him incredulously. He snorted a laugh. “I barely know you!”

Castiel leveled a steady look on him, immediately making Dean lean back slightly and regret the words.

“Is that true? Do you not know me?”

Dean swallowed. “I mean...I don’t know about your childhood or...your favorite song. But...yeah,” his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Yeah. I know you.” He knew all he needed to know. That Cas looked at him like no one ever had. That his hands felt incredible. That he made him feel like a better person. Sam liked him. Impala liked him. Bobby liked him. And the world was in chaos around them. Their eyes met briefly, Cas looking more confident at Dean’s amended admittance. 

Cas nodded, looking away, as if the counter ahead of him was suddenly so interesting.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. The crazier he though this all was, the more normal it all seemed. It didn’t make sense and yet it felt absolutely right.

We.

As in, he and Cas.

And babies.

He stifled a laugh, swallowing at the steady gaze Cas was now giving him. Dammit.

“I apologize for rushing things. I do not have the luxury of guessing. Not when it comes to you. Not with so many things in question. I don’t even know if my legion will follow me any more. I have been gone a long time.”

Dean hated the sad look that tipped Cas’ face. “So...back to the we stuff. So, the other mages will want you cranking out babies soon. And...if you and I are, ya know, a ‘we’, then...what happens?”

Castiel looked at him, his sadness slipping into something more along the worried spectrum. “There are several options. We could bond and -“

“So, men can bond?” Dean asked.  
  
“They can.” Castiel said, still gazing at him. “But it is not encouraged when bonding with a woman can result in children so easily. At least, more children than two men could create.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened. “You mean two men can make a baby?”  
  
Castiel looked down again more shyly. “It has been done. But the success of birthing is low. If we...If I bonded with a man, they would expect me to make it happen. I could alter my anatomy, or my partner’s to carry a child.”  
  
Dean covered his mouth with his hand.  
  
Fuck.  
  
It was way more than he was ready to think about. It was something he never had considered or known possible. Shoving the unbelievable thoughts aside, he cleared his throat, leaning onto his hand as he studied Cas. “And...would you be expected to stay in Haven?”  
  
Cas looked at him steadily. “Without a doubt. A mage has never left his post. It is our duty to uphold the ideals of our namesake. I am responsible for my entire legion.”  
  
Something sunk inside his chest. He really liked Cas. Sprite or not. But it looked like them being more than just partners on this journey was entirely too much to ask for.  
  
“This mark doesn’t mean I have to live in Haven, does it?”  
  
Cas frowned. “No. I would not hold you to that. I would only ask that what secrets you learn, stay with you, keeping us safe.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Of course.”  
  
Cas turned to him, his blue eyes probing. “Would you ever consider moving to Haven with me?”  
  
Oh shit. Part of him was shocked Cas even considered asking. Another part of him tried to see a life like that. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. Their eyes lingered with unasked questions and unresolved answers.   
  
This was a problem.  
  
“I would care for you a great deal,” Cas said, sliding his hand over to take Dean’s.  
  
Dean balked at the thought of being ‘cared for’. He pictured himself in a role like Kate. The supportive spouse. His skills would be useless in Haven. He’d be relegated to caring for their children, if they even managed to have any.  
  
“And if we couldn’t have kids?” Dean pressed.  
  
Cas pressed his lips together, not wanting to answer. “I would be expected to take on mates. Even if we were bonded.”  
  
Dean released Cas’ hand, sitting back as he blew out a breath. “I, I don’t think I could do that, Cas. That’s...”  
  
Cas laced his own fingers together as he nodded with a gentle look of understanding. “I’m not entirely sure I could handle a relationship like that either. My own father had many mates, creating six children. Two of his children, Anna and Samandriel, both of whom demonstrate fairly strong grace powers, are my abettors. Obviously Kassiel’s grace was passed on rather strongly.”  
  
“So let those two have the kids,” Dean offered, looking for any kind of hope.  
  
Castiel smiled sadly. “Their grace is nothing compared to mine. I will certainly be expected to have children.”  
  
Dean rubbed his face with both hands. The information was way more than he wanted to think about.  
  
“If I do not bond with you before my next meeting with Michael and Gabriel, it will certainly be commanded that I do not do so.”  
  
Dean’s hands dropped to his lap. “Fuck Michael.” He stared at Cas hard, Cas seeming shocked at the words.  
  
“He’s massing an army of demons, Cas! Kinda makes his word not worth anything!”  
  
Cas frowned in thought. “But...”  
  
“But nothing! He’s not your boss.”  
  
“By law, he is my superior,” Cas argued.  
  
Dean leaned toward him a little closer. “Cas, whether or not you and I become something more, that bag of dicks is not your boss anymore. He’s a traitor. He broke the law.”  
  
“Bag of dicks,” Cas repeated, looking at him with utter confusion. “He’s more superior than Gabriel. He is Sunday’s mage and he is extremely powerful.”  
  
The two stared at each other, Cas not grasping what Dean was explaining and Dean finding it adorable, yet dangerous.  
  
“He only has one dick,” Cas assured him.  
  
Dean caught his laugh but lost it. When Cas sat back even more perplexed, Dean threw his head back, laughing hard.  
  
“Dean. This isn’t funny.”  
  
“I know,” he wheezed, laughing again as he cupped Cas’ shoulder, patting him. “It was, uh, never mind.” He waved his own fit of laughter off, settling into a smile at the sprite. He couldn’t figure out why exactly he liked Cas so damn much, but he did. He did. His hand dropped down to Cas’, taking it with a little squeeze. “I don’t know what will happen with you and me, Cas...shit, there’s a contract on my soul anyway. You definitely deserve someone who’s at least available.”  
  
Cas frowned. “You’ll have your soul again, Dean. I swear it.”  
  
Dean’s humor settled. Who knew if there was really any way to save his soul from Crowley? But he loved that Cas would try. And he knew he would.  
  
“Cas,” Dean said, meeting his blue eyes solemnly. “I can’t promise I’m ready to bond or mate or marry you. But I do promise that I am here tonight. And I want to know you better. I...” memories of Cas’ wings, his mouth, his fight with Azazel all flooded Dean’s mind. “We...we have tonight. And I got no idea what tomorrow is gonna look like. But the thought of waking up with you to start what ever mess we’re getting into next...that...that makes me kinda real happy.”

Cas twitched a grin. “It makes me very happy too.”

“So, did you bring dessert?” Dean asked, not wanting to think about mages or demons or deals or obligations for a little bit. His dad was safe. For the moment, they were all safe. If they didn’t take advantage of this moment, they might not get another.  
  
Cas grinned, pulled his bag toward him, seeming eager to join him in a moment to relax. “I have some seeds.”  
  
Dean sat back, watching Cas grow something as he took the spare moment to clean his gun. He really was not even hungry after the food Gabriel had made. But eating was easier than anything else he could think of doing. Cas moved gracefully, happy with producing and creating a snack. When he sat the plate in front of him, he had the dearest smile of accomplishment.  
  
“Thank you,” Dean said softly, sitting his gun aside, waiting until Cas sat down until he began eating. “What are these?” Dean grinned, eating plump, purple things that popped in his mouth.  
  
“Grapes?” Cas chuckled. “You’ve never eaten grapes?”  
  
“No! They’re so good!”  
  
Castiel lowered his hand to the table. “You’ve never had wine?”  
  
“What’s that?” Dean popped another grape in his mouth. “They’re like sweet with a hint of sour. So good!”  
  
“Do humans have alcohol besides whiskey and beer?”  
  
Dean frowned. “You can make liquor out of grapes?”  
  
Cas shook his head in amazement. “We make wine with grapes.”  
  
Dean grinned at him as he chewed slowly. “I hope I get to try some. Is it as strong as whiskey?”  
  
“No,” Cas chuckled, popping a grape in his mouth. “We drink it all the time. Usually with dinner but some drink it more than others. Much how you drink beer.”  
  
“Sounds fruity.”  
  
“It goes well with beef or fish.”  
  
Dean stared at him. “You’ve eaten fish? Why would you do that? It’s cursed!”  
  
Cas gave him a long, warm look. “I truly hope I am fortunate enough to bring you to Haven. There are so many things I want to show you.”  
  
Dean gave him a shyer smile.  
  
“Raphael can heal the fish for eating. He is one of the mages in Tree of Knowledge.”  
  
Dean nodded, realizing he knew absolutely nothing about how Cas lived there. “He a friend of yours?”  
  
“Hardly. He does not like me at all. I think my powers make him feel threatened.”  
  
“Huh. Well, he should be good to you then. In case you get pissed at him and turn him into a toad.”  
  
Cas almost choked on his water. “I would never do that.” He cleared his throat, pushing a few grapes around on his plate. “Though it would be a fitting punishment for what an ass he can be.”  
  
Dean laughed. He pushed his empty plate away, picking up the last two grapes on Cas’ plate. He pushed the plate away and pressed Cas back against his chair. Cas’ eyes widened as he finished chewing and swallowing his last bite. He slid his chair back several inches in response to Dean pressing against his chest.

All their talk of bonding and mating mighta been scary as fuck. But it was still hot. With every passing smile and especially with every laugh, Dean wanted Cas more. And if they were going to find out just how compatible they were, they might as well have some fun doing it.  
  
With a flirty grin, Dean got up and swung a leg over him, straddling his lap. Castiel’s eyes widened just a little more as he grinned up at him, his hands settling on Dean’s hips.  
  
Dean palmed one grape, holding the other between his thumb and index finger. He touched it lightly to Cas’ bottom lip, watching with a growing thrill as Cas parted his lips slightly.   
  
“I kinda got the impression you wanted to spend some time with me. Just me.”  
  
Castiel’s hands squeezed him lightly. “I did. I do. I wasn’t sure after our talk if you...were still interested.”  
  
Their eyes met. Dean didn’t want to think about their talk or any of the problems that lay outside the tiny apartment. What he did want to think about was Cas’ thumbs pressing gently into his thighs. He traced the plump grape along Cas’ bottom lip, watching how it dragged lightly. He bit his own bottom lip with a grin when Cas’ tongue peeked out to lick it.  
  
Cas was an insanely good kisser. That much he knew. He suspected he would be very good at a lot of other things too.  
  
“How ‘bout you clean us both up,” Dean said quietly.  
  
Cas bit the teasing grape gently, not even breaking its skin, his tongue caressing his fingertips. His hands squeezed gently, and Dean felt the now familiar sensation of the warm ripple that cascaded down his body, tingling him from his scalp down to his toes. His mouth fizzled and they both grinned a little harder.  
  
“Can you get rid of our boots?” Dean asked, putting the grape into his own mouth, eating it.  
  
“That was mine,” Cas said in a gritty tone that had Dean shifting his hips slightly. Their boots and socks disappeared, and Dean wondered just how having sex with a sprite was going to go.  
  
Cuz, yeah. They were having sex. Like...soon. Like...today.   
  
He moved the last grape into his fingertips and bit it softly between his front teeth with a teasing grin. “Last one,” said around it, “if you want it, come get it.”  
  
Castiel’s cheeks flushed as he wrapped his arms around Dean’s sides, sliding them onto his back to pull him down. He took the grape with his own mouth, chewing and swallowing it as he kissed him. Dean barely let him manage the grape before he was pressing forward to chase the flavor. Cas pulled him close, kissing him back just as playfully as a chuckle rumbled in his chest.   
  
“Get rid of this,” Dean said, tugging on his tan coat.  
  
It vanished, upping the thrill brewing inside Dean. “And this,” he said, tugging at the collar of his white shirt.  
  
Cas pulled his head back, watching Dean as his shirt vanished. Dean ran his hands down his shoulders and along his upper arms as his eyes traveled down his muscular chest. He saw the scar, knowing it went completely around his side, almost to his spine. He had touched Cas’ upper body before, but this was different. He knew they were going further. At least, that was what he hoped. He put his hands on Cas’ smooth chest, brushing both thumbs over his nipples before one hand slid lower to slide his thumb over the red line of his scar.   
  
“Is this okay?” Dean asked.  
  
“Yes,” Cas breathed out, his eyes riveted to Dean’s face as he studied the sprite’s body.  
  
“I want to do a lot more,” Dean admitted, biting his lip as he met his blue eyes.  
  
Cas cupped his cheek. “So do I.”  
  
Dean grinned harder. “Guess you’re clean since sprites can heal themselves.”  
  
“I am. As are you. I checked.”  
  
“You checked?” Dean frowned.  
  
“I did. One of the first times we kissed. I was...curious. There were a lot of infected people in Stockville. Every disease has a certain...smell.”  
  
Dean made a disgusted face.  
  
“You’ve always been healthy,” Cas smiled.  
  
Dean refocused on Cas’ chest. “So...what exactly did you have in mind by bringing me here alone?” His eyes lifted to Castiel’s with just a hint of shyness. He was unsure what to expect.  
  
Cas slid the chair back and stood up, lifting Dean easily to carry him, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He grinned at the surprised look Dean figured he must have. He’d never been with someone strong enough to carry him so easily. It made his mind spin with ideas.  
  
“I wanted to be with you. Just you.” Cas walked into Ellen’s room slowly. “I want you to know just how amazing I think you are.”  
  
Dean knew he was blushing. His fingers toyed with the back of Cas’ hair as he listened.  
  
“I want to show you how sprites make love.”  
  
Dean’s lips parted, a little stunned Cas referred to himself as a sprite. And even more shocked he used the phrase ‘make love’. His hopes soared along with his libido.  
  
Cas wrapped an arm beneath his butt more securely and stared down at the bed. He turned, watching as the mattress got thicker and the blankets went from gray to white, holes mending, and making itself into an inviting bed.  
  
He looked back at Cas in wonder. “Using your magic isn’t even making you tired, is it?”  
  
“No,” Cas assured him.  
  
“Show me what you got,” Dean challenged, bending down to kiss him. Cas kissed him back eagerly, bending to lay them both on the bed.  
  
“I want to take your shirt off,” Cas managed to get out between kisses that were quickly picking up in intensity.  
  
“Undress me however you want,” Dean whispered back into his ear before moving to slide his tongue down Cas’ neck, biting gently.  
  
Cas pulled away with a sharp intake of breath, staring down at Dean. There was a slight ring of glowing blue in his eyes and he was breathing heavier.  
  
Dean, lying on his back on the bed, Cas straddling his lap now, unlaced the top of Dean’s shirt, watching him like he’d never seen anything so incredible before. Dean let his arms fall to the bed, stretching open wide. Cas ran his hands up under the shirt, licking his lips as he smoothed his palms along Dean’s sides. He removed one hand, snapping his fingers and Dean’s shirt was gone.  
  
They were both down to only pants.  
  
Dean’s heart raced at the power that surged through Cas. He could feel it. The rings of blue glowed brighter and Dean felt a sudden burst of lust that he knew came from Cas. He gasped softly as Cas closed his eyes, his hands lying on Dean’s sides with a grounding pressure. He took a slow, deep breath, Dean matching it. The lust ebbed and Cas opened his eyes, the glow so faint it was almost gone.  
  
Cas smiled and Dean gave him a nervous little laugh. “This is gonna be intense, isn’t it?”  
  
“Very,” Cas muttered.  
  
Dean took another deep breath. “Maybe...uh, go a little gentle.”  
  
Cas leaned down, kissing him softly. “I will.”  
  
“Have you ever, uh, had sex with a human before?” Dean asked, trying to steady his nerves. Cas seemed on a different level of intensity. The rush of lust he had felt a moment ago was a peek into what the sprite was feeling inside, and it was enough to make Dean feel desperate for what he already wanted.  
  
“No. Nephilim who were mostly all human, but not a pure human.”  
  
“Do I, uh, need to know anything?” Dean’s nerves were all over the place. He wanted to ravage the man, he wanted the man to ravage him. And yet, he was a little bit afraid of the power that surged through Cas from time to time. It was like nothing he had experienced before.   
  
Cas smiled down at him, rolling his hips just a little. “I know what I am doing. Do you trust me?”  
  
Dean nodded, breathless. “Yeah. I trust you, Cas.”  
  
“Then enjoy yourself. I certainly intend to enjoy you completely. Many times.”  
  
“Many times,” Dean huffed, losing his breath again as Cas’ fingers scraped softly down his chest and began untying his pants.  
  
Cas licked his lips as he watched his own hands untie and tug the leather lacing loose. “Nephilim are capable of multiple orgasms. And providing multiple orgasms to their partner.” His eyes lifted to Dean’s, smoldering with heat. “Human partners as well.”  
  
“Oh shit,” Dean gasped, eyes widening as his pants disappeared. The shock of so much skin to skin heat made them both groan softly.  
  
Cas looked down again, stroking Dean’s cock gently, studying it as he studied all things.  
  
Dean groaned. He’d been sharing close quarters with people for so long. He’d had no privacy to jerk off. And he had been too distracted most of the time to even be frustrated about it. Cas’ hands seemed like a sudden shock to his system, making him groan as he stroked again. His hands gripped Cas’ thighs as his hips pressed up, Cas’ grip tightening to give him more friction.  
  
Cas moaned, grinning down at him with an authority that made Dean want to spread his legs. He rolled his hips up again, gasping as his skin registered the warmth of Cas’ skin against his. His hands gripped Cas’ thighs, sliding to his ass as Cas leaned forward, taking his mouth in a kiss so rapturous that Dean thought he might lose his mind.  
  
Cas stroked both their cocks together and Dean groaned aloud again. “Fuck, Cas,” he gasped. His legs strained to spread until Cas lifted, letting himself between Dean’s knees.  
  
“Dean,” Cas growled into his ear, neither able to pull off a very coordinated kiss right now.  
  
Dean lifted his feet, perching them on the small of Cas’ back. He wanted his cock buried inside him right the fuck now. He had to know what he felt like, what this would be.  
  
Cas’ mouth found his as he reached down, nudging his cock to Dean’s hole.  
  
“W-w-w-wait!” Dean gasped, fearing Cas would shove himself inside without any stretching.  
  
“Breathe, Dean,” Cas said gently, kissing him hard.  
  
Dean whimpered as a sensation tingled in his ass, as if Cas’ cock was making him warm and tingle. It felt so good Dean gasped, groping to catch his own cock and come but Cas caught his hand, pinning it to the bed.  
  
“Let me,” he panted.  
  
Dean squirmed, gasping as he felt Cas slide deep and warm inside him, filling him full to bursting. The slide felt hot and full and tingled, his body shuddering with a goodness that made him gasp. The sprite must have stretched and lubed him with grace magic because his cock felt amazing wedged so tight and hot.  
  
Dean huffed, pushing his head back to spread his hips and relax into the sudden fullness. “Feels so good,” he whimpered, already coiling so hard and tight inside that his climax was imminent.   
  
Cas kissed him, nipping at his lip, chin, ear, and neck as he began slowly and smoothly thrusting.  
  
Dean gripped his hand hard, using the anchor to push, fucking so hard it was making Cas gasp.  
  
Cas’ eyes closed as he sped up sudden and sharp, groaning.  
  
Dean could feel him swell, his prostate pummeled. He dug one heel in, grabbing his cock with his free hand, stroking three quick strokes and came as Cas watched him, coming as the bed pounded against the wall until he slowed, finally panting to a stop. Dean stared up at Cas, seeing the glow dim in his eyes again. He panted, adjusting his hips.  
  
Cas leaned down, kissing him as he let go of Dean’s hand to stroke through his hair gently.  
  
He grinned when Cas cleaned them both, his skin rippling with a tingle.   
  
“Okay,” Dean cleared his throat. “One, that was...awesome. Two, I fuckin’ love that you can clean us up like that. And three, you’re still hard as a rock.”  
  
Cas stopped nipping kisses along his neck, going up onto his hands over him. “I told you,” he grinned, sliding out and in, “multiple orgasms.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh. Like...” he was going to say ‘already’, but Cas started thrusting into him slowly, gathering Dean’s cock into his hand as a burst of lust surged between them again. Dean gasped as his cock got hard. “Oh...fuck.” He began moving against Cas again, his hands gripping Cas’ shoulders. His cock slid in and out so full but felt so good Dean wanted to cry.  
  
He gasped when Cas withdrew completely.  
  
“What?” He gaped, eyes opening fully to stare at him.  
  
“May I...turn you over?” Cas asked.  
  
“Baby, you can turn me upside down if it means you’ll keep going.”  
  
Cas chuckled, helping Dean turn over.  
  
Dean settled onto his elbows and into his favorite position. Not that Cas knew that yet. He grinned back at Cas as he settled against his hips, leaning over Dean to plant kisses down his spine. Dean’s head dropped, loving the feel of Cas being over him, surrounding him. His eyes squinted shut, biting his lip as the kiss descended to his tailbone to where his cheeks parted. His mouth dropped when Cas spread his cheeks and he began licking his hole.   
  
“Oh, holy shit,” Dean moaned.  
  
Cas groaned in response, Dean feeling it deep inside.  
  
“Cas,” Dean gasped, spreading his knees as Cas fucked into him with his tongue. “That feels so good,” he said three octaves higher than his normal range, fucking back onto Cas’ tongue gently. “Insanely good!”  
  
He gasped when Cas’ tongue flicked against his prostate.  
  
“Oh, that’s insane! Are you...are you doin’ some kinda crazy sprite thing?” He groaned loud as Cas stroked and nudged his prostate over and over. “Whatever it is, keep doing it!”  
  
Cas’ tongue worked harder and faster as Dean hurtled toward a second orgasm. There was no way Cas was JUST using his tongue. He had done something to fatten and elongate it, shoving and stroking, pressing until Dean couldn’t stop himself from fucking onto it. He stroked his throbbing cock and came hard, panting and collapsing onto the bed as the thick, wet tongue retracted until he was empty.  
  
“Oooohhhh, fuck,” he muttered against his forearm, eyes closed as his body teetered and pulsed in the afterglow.  
  
His breath caught when Cas rubbed his hands on Dean’s bare ass, circling and massaging.  
  
Dean went up onto his hands weakly as Cas lined himself up with him, stroking his back in long sweeps.  
  
Dean took a deep breath, feeling energy soak into his system like dry soil soaks up rain.  
  
“Want me to stop?” Cas asked, his hands never pausing in their exploration.  
  
Dean went up on his knees, backing into Cas’ chest. Cas’ mouth landed open and greedy on his neck as his arms held him.  
  
Oh mercy! A part of him seemed shocked he could keep going, but the energy, the drive, and the lust was all there. “No, don’t stop.”  
  
Cas pushed him forward onto his hands again, sliding inside him as insatiable as the first time. With one hand on his hip and the other on the small of his back, Cas took his time, driving himself to the edge before Dean felt another wave of lust so strong that he gasped, collapsing to his elbows. Cas drove harder and faster, reaching around to stroke Dean. The heavy emotions of erotic lust and Cas groaning behind him, had him coming again as Cas came inside him.  
  
Dean slumped to his stomach again as Cas lay on top of him, his body draped over his.  
  
“Dean, you are so...I can’t get enough.”  
  
Dean chuckled breathlessly. “You can take all you want, Cas. Shit. That fuckin’ emotion thing you do drives me crazy!”  
  
Cas slid his chin over Dean’s shoulder, making him moan in pleasure. His lips left a trail of kisses that had Dean shifting his hips with a grin. “Do sprites always have sex over and over?”  
  
“Not all,” he answered quietly, kissing the back of his neck. “Some do. Some, like Gabriel, throw lavish parties and there is a lot of sex at them.”  
  
Dean turned his head to the side, trying to look back at him. “Like...sex parties? With other people in the room?”  
  
“I have heard of that.” Cas slid his chin over, peering down at Dean. “I’ve not attended any like that.”  
  
Dean frowned.   
  
“Where I am from sex is spoken of only privately. Public affection is not so accepted.” Cas slid off his back, giving Dean the freedom to take a deep, full breath as he listened. “Nephilim do not kiss in public, let alone have parties involving sex.”  
  
“Guess the nephilim are as different as humans are. Not that I’ve heard about any sex parties. But I’d know where to go look if I thought I wanted to go to one.”  
  
Cas turned to him, his eyes narrowing.   
  
Dean propped up onto one hand with an amused grin. “I’m not looking for any sex parties.”  
  
Cas looked at the ceiling, hiding a guilty look of relief.  
  
Dean dropped back down to the bed. His body felt a little sore and his energy was draining quicker than before, but he wanted more. Not sex exactly. He peeked at Cas who was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He wanted Cas to...well...for lack of a better word...cuddle him.  
  
Could be sprites didn’t do that.  
  
Dean had always been a cuddler. It was what had sparked the relationship between him and Benny. Too many hunts in the cold. Dean would wiggle closer and closer until they pressed together. Eventually, Benny shared his sleeping roll. And eventually, they were more than sleeping together.  
  
Cas turned to him, catching Dean’s eye. “Shall we rest for a bit?”  
  
Dean grinned. “A bit, huh?”  
  
Cas turned on his side. “Well, if I haven’t worn you out...”  
  
Dean blushed. They’d barely been in bed for an hour and already he’d had sex more times than he’d had in the past year.  
  
Dean could feel the push of energy the sprite gave him.  
  
“How do you do that?” Dean asked softly, marveling at how good it made him feel.  
  
Cas lay back again, staring up at the ceiling. “I just...give it to you. Strength and energy are simply adjusting chemical levels in your body. I’ve read about it but did not know I could do it until I tried it with you. As for the other feelings...I simply share what I’m feeling.”  
  
“So...it is your feelings?”  
  
Cas turned to look at him, smiling gently. “It is.”  
  
“Can you read mine? How I feel?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Cas turned onto his side again, going up on one elbow as he stared at Dean with a scrutiny that made him lean away an inch. Dean wasn’t exactly sure he wanted Cas to know how he felt. He didn’t even quite know how he felt.  
  
“Your feelings are jumbled. Chaotic.” He frowned as his eyes ran over Dean’s body. “You don’t know what to do with what we have.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean said, feeling way too vulnerable.  
  
“Oh,” Cas’ eyes met his and he smiled.  
  
“What?” Dean asked, worried what he had seen.  
  
“Come here,” Cas said gently, reaching to pull Dean against him. “I want to hold you as well.”  
  
Dean settled back against him. “You knew I wanted that?”  
  
“To cuddle?” Cas clarified. “Yes. I do too.” Cas pulled him tight against him, kissing his shoulder.  
  
“Can you...not read me? I’m not sure I like it.”  
  
“Of course! I would only do that when you ask. It is rude and dealt with harshly in Haven. Nephilim that are able to empathize are not allowed to do so without permission.”  
  
Dean relaxed a bit. “Okay. I mean, I don’t got anything to hide, but...”  
  
Cas kissed his shoulder again, his head nestling against Dean’s. “It is a matter of privacy. I understand. I am glad you like to cuddle.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, blushing. “Yeah.”  
  
“You can ask anything of me Dean,” Cas whispered. “Anything.”  
  
Dean grinned to the gray walls in the room as Cas wrapped an arm around him, his palm laying open and relaxed on Dean’s chest. He shifted his hip, finding Cas’ warm cock not fully hard, but substantial, nonetheless.  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel did not sleep. He held Dean all night long when they weren’t making love. He was aware that Dean categorized it as ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’ but he was willing to wait for Dean’s feelings to develop. Was it a human trait to not recognize the love of their life when they had been through so much already?  
  
When the narrow window let in the weak light of Purgatory’s dawn, Castiel ran his hand down Dean’s side, over his ribs, his muscular back, the curve of his hip, to the round, firm globe of his ass.   
  
Dean had a fine ass.  
  
He grinned as he swept his mouth along Dean’s forehead, waking him. Dean started to smile but caught sight of the light in the window. His head dropped back down, and he stared silently at his arm.   
  
He didn’t want to go. Cas’ smile faded. He did not want to go either. Dean did not like talking about things, especially feelings, so he opted to push his through.  
  
Dean blinked more rapidly, his brow dipping in thought.  
  
Love. Care. Joy. Worry. Worry.   
  
Dean tilted his chin up; his back was snuggly against his chest and Castiel wished he could keep him here forever.  
  
“I would like to make a sigil with you,” he said, the thought hitting him suddenly.  
  
“Whatsa matter?” Dean grinned. “Scared I won’t make the boat ride?”  
  
Cas smiled sadly. “Whatever happens, I want to be able to find you again. You are so very important to me, Dean.”  
  
Dean’s smile sobered. “You can read my thoughts for one minute.”  
  
Cas smiled, kissing his shoulder as he let Dean’s emotions flow to him. Care, worry, fear, need to touch, worry, love, fear. Each emotion rolled from one to the next. He kissed Dean’s shoulder again, hugging him tight, feeling Dean grip his arms and spread against him the best he could. If Dean wanted touching, he intended to fill that need until Dean knew not of another creature that could fill it like Cas could. His grace surged with the need for Dean to understand him. But now he knew Dean cared. Dean loved him. But the thought was immediately chased by fear. So, there was love, but he was afraid of something. Of course he was worried. They all were.  
  
He kissed Dean’s neck, pushing up onto one elbow to roll Dean back partially so they could see each other fully. “I care very much for you too, Dean. And I too worry what will befall us before the end of this journey. But I want you to know that I love you. Very much. I don’t know what exactly that means or what I can do about it, but it is the truth.”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened, so green in the dim morning gloom as he stared up at him.  
  
“Thank you for showing me that.”  
  
Dean looked startled.  
  
Castiel tipped his head, unsure of what to say. “Your feelings...love chased sharply by fear. You love me but you’re afraid to admit it, or afraid to show it.”  
  
“I’m afraid to lose it,” Dean said in a hushed rush.  
  
“Oh, Dean.” Castiel wanted to put Dean away somewhere safe that no one and no thing could harm him. But Dean was not for whisking away. It would crush his spirit. His way would be to fight. As he realized just how tenuous Dean’s future was, knowing they still would have to fight for Dean’s soul, it occurred to him for the first time just how tenuous his own future was. If he chose to fight Michael...His eyes met Dean’s again. “Will you share a sigil with me?”  
  
Sorrow and strength passed through his green depths before he shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know how much good it will do you. I might not ever make it to the veil, Cas. Let’s be real.”  
  
“You will.” Cas pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He would sell his own soul in exchange for Dean’s freedom. Surely a nephilim soul would suffice for a human one.  
  
Dean sat up, scooting behind him to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, Cas. I would love to share a sigil with you.”  
  
Castiel met his eyes. Perhaps Dean was too worried and too afraid to allow this relationship to work. Perhaps when Dean got to the veil, revisiting his family and friends, he would understand just how deeply he cared for him. And Dean may never feel the same amount of love that he did. There was love there in his emotions, but it was not the sure bursts he himself had. And there was nothing to do about it now.  
  
Castiel stood up, turning to peer out the narrow window. “We should go.”  
  
  



	18. Homeward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will they finally get out of Purgatory?

Chapter 18: Homeward  
  
  
  
Dean gripped the far railing on Espírito Santo. Gray water churned at the edge of the ship. He’d be happy if he never saw the ocean again, let alone stepped foot onto a ship.  
  
Sam’s hand landed reassuringly on his back. “You good?”  
  
“Yeah,” he answered gruffly, not good at all. Something Cas had said this morning made him worry. Something in his tone made his stomach churn.   
  
The sprite was in love with him. He felt it. Their love making had been more than just sex. He knew it. And he was doing his best to deny it. He couldn’t fall in love with a sprite. One of the seven. What the fuck would that do to him? Either of them! And war was brewing. Stockville was full of demons. He and Cas were going to stop in Ellen’s bar but the whole place was swarming with demons. They opted to head straight for the dock, meeting up with Gabriel, Sam, and the rest of them in plenty of time to board the ship.  
  
“I just don’t understand how Dean managed to pay our way outta here?” Ellen insisted from somewhere down the railing. “I been trying for years to get me and Jo outta here!”  
  
“I’ll explain later,” Bobby hushed. “Just roll with it for now.”  
  
At least one bonus had come with Crowley’s magic ticket out of Purgatory. It covered everyone in his party to get to Freeland. And he did not want to be around when Bobby told Ellen that his soul was the purchase price.  
  
The ship rocked gently, making Dean grimace as he stared as far out across the water as he could see.  
  
“Storm’s coming,” Sam said quietly.  
  
Dean nodded, the mere thought making his mouth water unpleasantly.  
  
“So...did you and Cas have a good night?”  
  
Dean glanced at his brother, then back at the others who were further up the rail listening as Gabe told them something. “It was...good.”  
  
“Did you sleep with him?” Sam asked, a grin toying one corner of his mouth and his eyes twinkled in a challenge.  
  
Dean scoffed.   
  
“You did!” Sam laughed. “Was it like human sex?” He at least lowered his voice again.  
  
“No,” Dean shook his head. “I lost count of how many orgasms I had.”  
  
“You did not,” Sam said in shock.  
  
“Okay, eleven.” Dean laughed at the blur of a night.  
  
“What?” Sam leaned away, staring at him. “You...”  
  
“Eleven, Sam,” Dean smirked, enjoying the information for what it was. “Eleven glorious times. And him? I don’t even know. Probably more.”  
  
Sam’s face froze in shock.  
  
Dean nodded and smiled again.  
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
Dean glanced down to the group, Cas smiling as Jo and Charlie talked to him. “Best-night-of-my-life Cas.”  
  
Cas turned just a fraction, one blue eye catching his as he gave Dean a knowing grin.  
  
“Oh shit! I think he heard you!” Sam laughed.  
  
“I don’t even care,” Dean shook his head, winking at the man that had ruined him for sex with anyone else, ever. Cas winked back, grinning as he tried to listen to the ladies talking.  
  
Sam whacked his arm, Dean whacking him back as they both laughed.   
  
They watched as the anchor rose and the crew prepared to set sail. Cas came to stand with him and Sam as they were tugged out into the stream of the ocean.  
  
Dean swallowed sour bile as the ship rocked and sailed out into the ocean. It should have been awesome, but it just wasn’t. Not for him. He swore he could smell the stench of cursed creatures below the dark surface of the water. Castiel stepped up behind him, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. His stomach calmed and he took a deep breath, appreciating the assistance.  
  
“I’ll be taking you and Sam, then coming back for the horses.”  
  
“I’ll join you,” John said stiffly. He’d been giving Dean the silent treatment since he and Cas had met them at the docks.  
  
“Very well,” Cas nodded, tipping his head toward John as he met Gabriel’s eyes, who nodded in return.   
  
Charlie bounced on her feet with excitement. “These people are gonna freak out when we all just...” she waved a hand indicating them disappearing.  
  
Dean shook his head, laughing at the tiny witch. “Charlie, I hope you and Jo stay at the bunker with us for a while.”  
  
“Really?” She squealed, hugging him. “That would be great! Just until we figure out...” her eyes went wide as the ship looked like it would collide with a low, flat, barge of a ship.  
  
He felt Cas grip his arm.  
  
“Wait!” Dean hissed, all of them watching, like the rest of the people aboard ship.  
  
The ship matched their ship’s speed and began throwing anchors that dug into the wood decking, clawing into the side rail. Deck hands began tugging at the anchors fruitlessly as others hacked at the chains with no luck. Before any of them figured out a better strategy, they were boarded with long planks that clattered to the rail of their ship like snaps of thunder. Six huge planks dropped one after the next, people piling onto them to ruthlessly board their ship. Their eyes flicked to black.   
  
“Got any humans on board?” One shouted. “Only interested in your human cargo, folks.”  
  
A tall, thin, pale man walked aboard. He was a head taller than the rest of the demons and sneered at the passengers. “Bring out all your humans,” he tolled in a nasally voice, chuckling as his eyes scanned the crowd.  
  
Screams came from down ship as a woman and three men were being dragged off ship.  
  
“Time to go,” Gabriel said sharply.  
  
“If we disappear, they might suspect nephilim were here,” Cas countered. “We could jump overboard.”  
  
“Are you insane?”  
  
“Witches too!” A burly man yelled only several feet away from Charlie. She turned quick with a gulp as the man came straight toward her.  
  
“You a witch?” He yelled.  
  
Jo pulled a sword, facing the demon, but both girls, Gabriel, Bobby, and Ellen disappeared.  
  
“What the?” The demon turned in a circle, searching for them. “Where’d they go?! Alastair!”  
  
The tall, pale demon turned to look at him.  
  
“Cas!” Sam hissed, nudging his arm.  
  
Cas nodded, putting his hands on Sam and Dean’s shoulders as Sam grabbed hold of their dad. They all felt like they were pulled back into water, making them gasp. Sam turned as the rest of the world turned a shade of lavender.  
  
Dean turned, always anxious to see Cas’ wings. He smiled at the giant spread of silky black feathers. His dad’s eyes bulged, Sam re-gripping his arm as he took a step in shock. He realized Cas was staring at something, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing blue-white.  
  
“Nephilim!” Alastair shouted, his grin turning into rage, staring straight at Cas.  
  
Cas’ grip tightened and all four were gone with the now familiar flutter of wings.  
  
They dropped perfectly into place alongside a road.  
  
Cas’ wings came with him, spread in ashy black, just as mighty but untouchable.  
  
Gabriel turned back to him; wings spread wide.  
  
“He saw me,” Cas said icily. “The demon Alastair.”  
  
“Shit,” Gabriel swore.  
  
“The horses,” Dean reminded him, tugging his sleeve.  
  
Castiel, took a step back, disappearing.  
  
“Cassie! Dammit!” Gabriel yelled, running toward him, and disappearing.  
  
Everyone stood there staring.  
  
“What just happened?” Bobby asked, keeping Ellen close to his side.  
  
“Alastair could see Cas when he goes invisible to where his wings are,” Dean said, staring at the empty ground where Cas and Gabe last stood. “Where are they? This is taking too long!”  
  
“Where are we?” Jo asked, looking around at the trees.  
  
“Lawrence,” John said steadily. “Ten miles south of Lebanon, if I’m correct.”  
  
Dean jumped, suddenly surrounded by horses who reared, neighed, and pawed, sending all of them running.  
  
Gabe snapped his fingers, wincing and holding his side. The horses all stopped, standing as docile as old mules.  
  
Castiel landed with a thud, falling onto one knee before staggering back up onto his feet. His face was tight, and Dean could see the old injury in his wing bleeding.  
  
Gabriel folded at the waist, panting. “That bastard packs a wallop.” Leaning on his knees, Gabe looked up as Dean and Sam both steadied him.  
  
“Shit. Your wing,” Gabe panted, standing. “Step back,” he said loudly, Dean and Sam letting go of Cas. He touched two fingers to Cas’ forehead, making his face relax only partially.  
  
“Oh,” Gabriel said, and they both disappeared.  
  
“Where’d they go!” Dean yelled.  
  
Sam waved a hand in front of Challenger’s eye, the horse not moving.   
  
John swore, pacing along the road.  
  
Cas and Gabriel returned, neither looking much better.  
  
“Sorry,” Gabe was saying. “Guess wings aren’t as easy to heal as our bodies.”  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Cas said heavily.  
  
“Are you alright?” Dean asked, coming to him quickly.  
  
“I’ll be okay, Dean. Alastair was waiting for us and had a blade that, shockingly, cut my wing.”  
  
“He’s no run of the mill demon,” Gabriel said, dusting off his tan coat. “I was going to tell you that, but you darted out of here like a Friday headed to supper.”  
  
Cas huffed, his shoulders slumping.  
  
“Gabriel, you’re bleeding,” Sam said, gesturing at the sprite’s side.  
  
“Yeah,” Gabe muttered, looking down at the growing red stain on his jacket. “He got me with that damn blade. I can’t just heal it.”  
  
“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, gripping Gabe by the shoulder. “You gotta get that stitched.”  
  
Gabriel, looking woozier by the second, teetered to the side as Sam and Bobby steadied him.  
  
“What do we do?” Sam asked, taking Gabe’s full weight.  
  
“Lay him down quick!” Ellen cut in. “He might be a sprite, but I bet needle and thread still works on him just fine.”  
  
Dean turned to Cas, who watched with a grim set to his jaw. “Cas?”  
  
“I’ll be fine. I can’t feel it very much when my wings are in the other plane. And Gabriel did manage to heal it some.”  
  
Cas waved a hand and the horses perked back up.   
  
“We’re close to the bunker,” Bobby said over Ellen’s shoulder. “It only has to get him about ten miles.”  
  
She laughed short as she threaded a needle. “You think once he wakes up, he’s gonna let me poke him again? Would YOU poke a conscious sprite?” She glanced up at Cas. “No offense, Cas.”  
  
Cas merely raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
  
Castiel knew exactly where they were. This was the exact spot he had arrived in Lawrence weeks ago to deliver his simple message. It seemed so odd to see the side of the road again. The trees were very familiar now, being that he traveled for quite some time amongst the oaks and pines in the beginning of their trip. He remembered with a pang of embarrassment that he once had the bright idea to climb one. He had learned so much from the humans he now considered more than friends.   
  
The weather had changed since he was last here. While his coat had been plenty warm to keep the chill from him as he had walked toward town, the bite of a damp cold gave the air a sharp burn as he breathed it in. Their breath came out in white puffs and they all shrunk inward at the drastic difference from the warm sea humidity of Purgatory’s coast.  
  
As they rode into town, children recognized John, darting for their homes yelling, “It’s Sheriff Winchester! He’s back!” John waved and seemed to know every single person. He wondered what his own return to Haven would be like. Much colder, to say the least.  
  
Excitement only frenzied as they neared the bunker. More and more people were shouting the Winchesters’ return. Shopkeepers and pedestrians on the street and sidewalk perked up as each heard yelling or saw their party. As they stepped into the courtyard, dogs greeted them, not knowing what to think of their strange smells. Chickens clucked with interest and people ran into the bunker in excitement to tell others.  
  
“Wow,” Gabriel mumbled from in front of Sam, who had been the only one strong enough to hold him as he slowly gained consciousness on the trip to the bunker. “Humans are so...excitable. And look at this city!”  
  
“Shocking, isn’t it,” Castiel grinned at him. “I was astounded when I arrived and found Lawrence to be so civilized.”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Did ya think we still moved around in camps?”  
  
“We did. It was the state of things when the nephilim last were welcome in Lawrence. We wrongly assumed you had met your limit of prosperity.”  
  
Dean huffed, dismounting now that they were in the courtyard.   
  
“Sorry,” Castiel said, giving Dean an embarrassed smile. “We didn’t know.”  
  
They all began dismounting.  
  
“Well, we thought you were magical creatures out to lure and trick people to their deaths. Guess we were both wrong.”  
  
“JOHN!”   
  
Castiel smiled as John turned, running to hug the yellow-haired Kate.  
  
Castiel grinned even harder as he dismounted and saw Adam running for them. “DAD!”  
  
John hugged Adam, turning in a circle to hug and kiss his wife and son. Adam quickly squirmed down, tears streaking his plump cheeks. “Dean! Sam!”  
  
Sam scooped him up next, hugging and kissing him.  
  
“I was so worried!” Adam hiccuped.   
  
Dean hugged him next. “Damn, it’s good to see you.” He kissed the top of Adam’s head.  
  
“You too! I was worried! But I knew you’d make it!”  
  
As Dean sat Adam down, Castiel hugged him. “Adam! It is so good to see you!”  
  
Adam pushed away, looking at him like he was a stranger.  
  
“Whatsa matter?” Dean grinned. “You don’t recognize your own cat when you see him?”  
  
Adam gasped, staring at Castiel anew. Of course, he had forgotten that Adam never saw him in nephilim form.  
  
“Thursday?”  
  
Castiel smiled. “I am.”  
  
“Wow.” Adam continued to stare as the others greeted them boisterously.  
  
“Hiya. I’m Monday,” Gabe grinned with a wink at Adam.  
  
Adam looked at him in shock. “Are you a cat too?”  
  
Gabriel and Castiel laughed.  
  
  
  
****************************************************  
  
  
  
  
Dean sagged in his chair at the large table in the meeting room. He was home.  
  
Damn, it was good to be home.  
  
He jumped slightly when Sam’s big hand landed on his shoulder with a thud. “Dude, we did it.”  
  
Dean turned to his brother with a nod. “You did good out there, Sam.”  
  
“So did you.” Sam let his hand fall, sagging into his chair as well. “I can’t believe we made it.”  
  
“What happened?” Adam asked, pressing into Sam’s space enough that he lifted an arm to put around him. “How did you turn Thursday into a person?”  
  
Person. Huh. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance.  
  
“Charlie fixed him. She’s a witch.” Sam nodded across the table to Charlie, who turned to them with a grin. “She took one look at him and knew how to fix him.”  
  
“Wow,” Adam breathed out, staring at Charlie. He looked back at Sam. “She’s pretty.”  
  
Sam chuckled. “She’s taken. Jo’s her girlfriend.” He pointed at Jo, getting a disappointed look from Adam and a chuckle from Jo.   
  
“Careful, Adam. She carries a sword and knows how to use it,” Dean laughed.  
  
“Adam is learning quite a bit about sword work, himself,” came Samuel’s booming voice as he entered the meeting hall.  
  
Donna scurried around Samuel and the rest of the group that was now making its way into the meeting room. Donna made a beeline for him and Sam. “I knew you’d be back!” She wiped a happy tear off her cheek, hugging Dean. “I told everyone every day that it was only a matter of time!” She hugged Sam next, standing back with a look of pride on her face as she parked her fists on her hips. “I said if anything ever happened to me, that’s who I’d want doggin’ down my attackers!”  
  
“Took quite a while,” Samuel added, sitting at the table.  
  
John gave him an annoyed look. “I didn’t see you putting your neck on the line.”  
  
Samuel smiled patiently. “I offered. Your boys decided all they needed was Bobby. Guess he picked up some help along the way.” The bald patriarch gave Charlie, Jo, Ellen, Ash, and Cas curious looks. “And one of them is a witch. Interesting.”  
  
“You never mentioned Samuel Campbell would be here,” Charlie said pointedly at Dean. “I knew you were related by your sigil, but I thought the Winchesters and Campbells didn’t work together anymore.”  
  
“We don’t hunt together,” Dean clarified. “And I didn’t want to ruin my reputation by being associated.” Dean smirked back at her, making Samuel frown in irritation.  
  
“Dean is my grandson,” Samuel clarified.   
  
“You’re known for stirring up a lot of trouble in Purgatory,” Ellen said coolly to Samuel.  
  
“I’m a hunter, and I do not apologize for ridding the world of monsters,” he said back smugly.  
  
“I’m a witch and I’ve cleaned up plenty of your messes,” Charlie said back just as frostily.  
  
“Everyone,” John called out harshly, meeting everyone’s eyes as the group fell silent. “There is no time for old arguments. Or old beliefs. We have much bigger problems to worry about than old feuds.”  
  
Everyone shifted in their seats slightly. “Gabriel will be back momentarily. Then we can discuss strategy.”  
  
Donna got them all drinks as they waited for their medic to finish working with Gabriel. Cas sat stiffly in the seat beside him. In fact, the only time Cas had looked relaxed was outside when he met Adam. Dean hoped the news of Cas and Gabriel being nephilim was not going to have as bad of an effect on people as he feared. Knowing Samuel for the alarmist he was, he’d be ready to declare war on Michael and all sprites. He had not mentioned it yet, but he had noticed the added warding on all doors, gates, fences, and windows outside the bunker and on the way to the meeting hall.  
  
“Hey,” Dean said quietly, putting his hand on Cas’ arm. “Are there sigils bothering you?”  
  
“No,” Cas answered deep and quiet. His eyes slid to Dean. “The injury to my wing is...bothering me.”  
  
Dean slid his hand to Cas’ feeling how cold and clammy it was. He slid his heavy wooden chair back, shooting to his feet.  
  
“We’ll be back,” Dean announced, pulling Cas to his feet.  
  
“Sit down,” John demanded. “We need to start planning now!”  
  
Sam stood beside him. “We’ve been gone for over a month. It can wait.”  
  
John stared at his sons in shock as Samuel scowled.  
  
Dean steered Cas toward the door. “Donna send for Missouri now. Charlie, you’re with me.”  
  
“You sit down right now,” Samuel demanded, pounding a fist on the table.  
  
John was on his feet, glaring at Samuel. “This is my bunker. If Dean says we need to wait, then that’s what we’ll do.”  
  
Dean never looked back, but he knew it was only Samuel trying to usurp authority that had their dad taking his side. Right now, he had bigger problems.  
  
“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked, jumping in to support Cas on his other side.  
  
“I think Cas is poisoned by that knife. He’s -”  
  
“Take him to the infirmary!” Donna yelled as she ran down the hall toward the bunker’s back door to get Missouri.  
  
“Dean,” Cas said weakly, trying to argue.  
  
“Cas just hang in there. If you’re getting worse, then so is Gabriel.”  
  
Cas stared ahead, frowning in worry as sweat beaded his brow and his eyelids grew heavier.  
  
They almost made it the entire way before Cas collapsed completely. Dean and Sam doubled their efforts, Charlie grabbing a leg to carry him.  
  
“Is he sick?” Adam fretted, trailing them.  
  
“Yes,” Dean answered. Though it was much more complicated than that.  
  
They shoved their way through the infirmary door to the large room with six beds in it. They passed the first bed, Gabriel lying in it with their medic, Dr. Garrison, and the medic in training, Alex Jones, stooped over his figure, examining him.  
  
“What’s going on?” Dr. Garrison asked, standing to watch as they lifted Cas onto the next bed.  
  
“He’s sick,” Adam said, hovering at the foot of Gabriel’s bed, staring at him. “Why’s Monday sleeping?”  
  
“Monday?” Sam muttered, turning to rush to Gabriel’s side. “Gabriel!” He patted the man, but he did not respond.  
  
“He got increasingly worse after he got here,” Dr. Garrison explained. “Does this man have the same thing? Is this contagious?”  
  
“It’s poisoning,” Dean said bluntly. “And you ain’t gonna be able to fix this doc.”  
  
Charlie began examining Cas, feeling his heart rate, looking at his pupils. She turned to Gabriel, doing the same. She flung the sheet back, pushing his torn shirt aside. “Open this.”  
  
“I just stitched it!” Dr. Garrison argued.  
  
“Open it!” Charlie yelled, pulling open the small bag she kept tied to her waist.   
  
Dean sighed in relief when Missouri came rushing into the room.   
  
“What’s all this now?” She quickly looked over both men lying in the beds. Her eyes bulged at the sight of Gabriel.  
  
“Do you know who he is?” Dean asked, holding her gaze, needing to know if she recognized him as a nephilim.  
  
“Yes, I do.” She held his gaze just as pointedly.  
  
“We’ve been traveling with them. Gabriel and...his brother,” Dean explained, knowing Missouri would want to know just how he knew not one sprite, but two.  
  
“His brother,” she murmured, looking at Castiel.  
  
“As in, same family,” Sam explained quickly.  
  
“Right,” Missouri nodded and moved to Gabriel quickly. “Witch Bradbury?”  
  
“You remember me?” She guffawed, not stopping in whatever she was doing to a crystal on Gabriel’s chest.  
  
“I do,” Missouri looked back at Dean and Sam. “Seems you brought all sorts home with you.”  
  
“She’s a friend,” Dean warned, not really understanding witch politics.  
  
“She is,” Missouri agreed. “An ally.” All her focus was back on Gabriel.  
  
“He was stabbed with a demon blade,” Charlie explained. “I’ve got cleansed sea salt and King’s Foil, but I need -”  
  
“You need...Sam, go get the oak box on the top of my cabinet. Bring it quickly.”  
  
Sam ran from the room.  
  
“Are they gonna make it?” Dean asked, taking Cas’ hand in his, trying to massage some life into it.  
  
“A demon blade?” Dr. Garrison asked, looking to Dean with confusion.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean couldn’t even put words together to explain how it had all come about. The guy would just have to wait.  
  
Alex stepped back but watched just as intently as Dr. Garrison as the two witches worked together quickly to unstitch Gabriel.  
  
Sam rushed in with the box, sitting it on the bed as he huffed and puffed for air. Missouri opened it with a spell, rifled through it and pulled out a tiny black book, opening it across Gabriel’s chest as if the man were merely more table space.  
  
“Place the crystal,” Missouri said in her soft, lullaby voice.  
  
Charlie, having chanted something over the crystal for the last several minutes, put the stone into Gabriel’s open wound.  
  
Missouri pointed to tiny black lettering in the book and they both began chanting together.  
  
Dean stood on his tiptoes to peer over the women’s shoulders. The clear crystal began filling with black. They chanted on, even while Gabriel began trying to move. Sam and Dr. Garrison moved in to help hold him down.  
  
Charlie continued chanting as Missouri bent down. “Gabriel? Do you remember me?”  
  
Gabriel was groaning, trying to twist and pull weakly. Dean noticed his legs quit fighting.  
  
“Witch.”  
  
“That’s right. Missouri Mosley. A demon blade has poisoned you. Hold on just a little longer and we’ll have all that dark energy gone.”  
  
He saw Gabriel’s fisted hand, relax and hold onto Sam’s arm.  
  
Dean looked down at Cas. He was pale. The sweat was gone, and he felt as cold as a stone floor on bare feet in winter. He felt for his heart rate. It was so slow Dean almost missed it, but it was there.  
  
Dr. Garrison turned to him, no longer needing to restrain Gabriel. “When did you return?”  
  
Dean pulled his worried eyes to the man staring at him. Dr. Garrison had been his medic since he was a kid and moved in here. The man had salt and pepper hair now where it once was all brown. He had always been kind over the years.  
  
“Maybe an hour ago.”  
  
“Are demons attacking? Samuel said it could come to that, but I did not believe him!”  
  
“We were...far away when this happened,” Dean explained. “But Samuel could be right.”  
  
Dr. Garrison turned back to watch as the witches removed all their materials from Gabriel’s body.  
  
“Can you heal the wound now?” Missouri asked, “or would you like the medic to stitch you?”  
  
“I’ll do it myself,” Gabriel said tiredly, laying his hand over the wound after Charlie removed the stone that was now all black.  
  
Gabriel winced, huffed, and light glowed from his hand. They watched as the skin collected deep inside until his skin was smooth and unmarred again. His arm dropped as his eyes fluttered closed.  
  
Dean rounded the bed, pushing between Sam and Dr. Garrison. “Gabriel. Gabe. Hey.”  
  
Gabriel took a long, deep breath, then opened his eyes. “Dean.”  
  
“Cas is...” he looked back at Cas. “I think he’s dying.”  
  
Gabriel sat up, wincing at his side as he struggled to sit up. Charlie and Sam helped him sit more upright.  
  
“Where is he?” Gabriel mumbled.  
  
“You need to rest,” Missouri warned.  
  
Dean, Sam, and Dr. Garrison stepped aside as Gabriel got to his feet and put his hand on Cas’ forehead. He frowned, leaning into whatever he was doing. Dean went around the bed again, watching Cas’ face as color came back to it.  
  
“I think it’s working,” Dean said, worrying why Gabe was still frowning so hard.  
  
Gabe let go with a gasp, his eyes popping open. Cas stirred a little, his eyes fluttering. “I need a crystal and that syphoning spell.”  
  
Dean leaned down. Cas’ cheek felt warmer this time.  
  
Charlie and Missouri sprung to work. Charlie gave him a clear crystal stone and Missouri held out the tiny book.  
  
Gabriel took them both and put his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Step back, Dean.”  
  
Dean met his eyes as his hand lifted away. They vanished, shocking Adam, Dr. Garrison, and Alex.  
  
“Are they witches?” Dr. Garrison asked.  
  
“Hardly,” Missouri answered him, watching the empty bed nervously. “The one we healed is Gabriel. The sprite. Mage of Monday.”  
  
Sam stepped out from between the beds, picking Adam up, who looked lost and terrified.  
  
“No,” Dr. Garrison grinned, laughing her off. “Really, who are they?”  
  
Missouri held the medic’s stare, giving him a look that clearly communicated her incredulous displeasure at the man not taking her for her word.  
  
Dr. Garrison’s smile disappeared. “Missouri...they can’t be sprites. Sprites are...” The man looked half unconvinced and half terrified.  
  
Alex just kept stepping back, looking around the room in confusion.  
  
“Thursday is a sprite?” Adam asked. “And the other one?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam answered him calmly. “He’s here to help us,” Sam assured him. “He was only a cat because he tried to use a spell from one of Missouri’s spell books.” His eyes met Missouri’s.  
  
“That explains a lot,” she nodded.   
  
Dean paced beside the bed. What was taking so long?   
  
“But, why did they leave?” Missouri asked.  
  
“Cas’ wound is in his wing. Gabriel couldn’t get to it from here. He has to be on the same plane as his wings,” Dean explained.  
  
Missouri studied him, making him pause in his pacing. “Why, Dean Winchester...you have SEEN his wings?”  
  
“Yeah. On both planes. Here they look black and...like ash floating in the air. You can’t touch them. But in the other plane they’re...” he shook his head at the memory, “they’re thick, strong. Kinda silky.”  
  
Missouri pulled him aside. “You touched his wings?”  
  
Dean nodded, not really wanting to go into details, but she was making him nervous.  
  
“Wings are sacred. To SEE them is a privilege few humans over time can admit to. To touch them...Dean...”  
  
Dean could see where she was going with this. “He didn’t claim me or bond or any of that shit -”  
  
“Language!” She scolded.  
  
“- stuff,” Dean amended.   
  
“But he does favor you?” She pressed.  
  
“Uh, I suppose.”  
  
“Definitely,” Sam said, making Dean look back to Missouri guiltily.  
  
“Okay. Yeah. Yes. A lot.”  
  
“But,” she went on in a hushed voice, “you haven’t sworn allegiance to him?”  
  
Dean frowned. His hand betrayed him, jumping to his shoulder to feel the mark. He wanted to lie but lying to Missouri was out of the question.  
  
“Dean!” Her eyes went wide with shock. “What sort of deals did he make you swear to?”  
  
“No! No deals,” he assured her. “Just my loyalty to Cas. Legion of Thursday.”  
  
“What?” Sam asked, staring at him hard, making Adam’s stare of worry and confusion deepen.  
  
“You haven’t lain with him, have you?”  
  
Dean frowned. Missouri’s eyes widened. She swatted his arm. “What’s wrong with you, boy?!”  
  
“Nothing! I -”  
  
Gabriel and Cas appeared in the room, standing side by side. They both looked tired, but much better off than before.  
  
Dean darted around Missouri and her questioning. “Cas! You okay?”  
  
“Yes,” Cas smiled small with a little tilt to his head. “I thought I was not going to survive.”  
  
Dean, the rest of the room being the last thing on his mind, hugged him tight. Cas did his usual belated hug, but soon turned his head, hugging him just as tightly.  
  
“You can’t die on me, Cas.”  
  
“I am healed. I’m not dying.” Cas pulled back, searching Dean’s eyes for just a brief second before kissing him chastely.  
  
Dean stepped aside, his hackles rising as he was suddenly aware every eye in the room was on him.  
  
Cas took his hand, giving him a reassuring smile with his head tilted up at him. It made Dean want to take him into another room. His own room. His eyes went wide as a little burst of love pressed into his system. He smiled, squeezing Cas’ hand. “Me too,” he said quietly. Cas’ smile grew until he looked back to Gabriel, then the rest of the room.  
  
“I believe we have a meeting to attend.”  
  
Charlie grinned. “I hope Witch Mosley can attend as well.” She bounced on her feet slightly, glancing from Dean to Sam.  
  
“Yeah,” the brothers both answered.  
  
“Of course,” Sam nodded.  
  
Castiel handed the now black stone to Charlie. “I trust you’ll dispose of this.”  
  
She took it, wrapping it in a bundle with sage and eucalyptus. “I know how to get rid of it.”  
  
Cas turned back to Dean. “Shall we?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean managed, still shaken from the events. One second Cas was at death’s door and now he was up, talking, and moving on to other things. Dean had to admit to himself that he was having some trouble keeping up.  
  
Dean led the group back through the bunker’s cold, gray hallways until they reached the meeting hall they had been in. As they walked into the room, all eyes were on them again. More people had come. Sheriff Henriksen now sat next to John, his cousin Mark, Missouri’s granddaughter and apprentice, Patience, and several other businessmen from town sat along the long table.  
  
“You’re back,” John said.  
  
Gabriel took the seat at the opposite end of the table, Castiel sitting to his right, with Dean, then Sam. Across from them, Missouri, Charlie, and Jo took their seats.  
  
Dean watched as the battle for power began.  
  
“Let’s get this meeting started,” Samuel said, clearing his voice with authority.  
  
John glared at him. “Moving on, we need a report of what you learned in Purgatory.”  
  
Gabriel shut the whole struggle for power down as he stood, his chair grating against the floor. The light in the room shifted and his wings were visible, stretching out in a hazy black spread that arched high, taking all authority in the room.  
  
“I am Gabriel, one of the seven Mages. The people from Lawrence call us sprites, but we are nephilim. Part angel, part human.” He waited as everyone at the table (besides those that had been to Purgatory) gasped, shied away, cowered, or even drew weapons. He stared with a slight smirk until they calmed enough to sit at the table again. The light dimmed as everyone settled to a more comfortable position. His wings were just as breath-taking without the added light. Even Dean had difficulty not staring at the promise of power that radiated off the man. Sprite. Nephilim.  
  
“This is Castiel.” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand before letting go of it to take a place beside Gabriel at the head of the table. “Castiel is Mage of Thursday, also one of the seven.” Gabriel nodded his head and Castiel stepped behind Dean, opening his wings. He turned to look at them, always wanting to see them, even when thick ash was only a hint of what he had seen. He gripped the arm of his chair as he noted the bald spot on the inside of his right wing and the newly healed flesh beneath it. His eyes lifted to Castiel’s, who met them blandly as he stood there.  
  
“We’ve been living in Haven since The War of the Peoples,” Gabriel explained. “The only contact with humans has been through our agreed upon treaty at the end of that war. Only humans who enter The Sunken Ties, willingly, are invited to Haven to live. Until recently, that is.”  
  
John already knew this information, but Samuel did not. And he looked livid.  
  
“It has come to my understanding that Michael, our most superior of the seven mages, has breached that treaty.”  
  
“Breached it how,” Samuel demanded.  
  
John lifted a hand, in a calming gesture toward Samuel, making the man sit back.  
  
“Michael is working with demons and Leviathan in Purgatory,” Gabriel said, flinty and sedate.  
  
Murmuring broke out around the table.  
  
Gabriel’s wings stirred and the room fell silent again. “Michael has aided in organizing the demons under three camps. Azazel, Alastair, and Dick Roman.” Gabriel stood quietly for a moment, all eyes on him, but he seemed not bothered with that. “Who began the talks, who first breached the treaty, is unknown to me. What I do know is that the act has taken place and moves are being made. Freeland will soon be under attack. And Lawrence will be next.”  
  
Yelling and shouting erupted around the table as they reacted how Dean had figured they would. Anger. Fear.  
  
“This is war!” Samuel yelled.  
  
“You’re damn right it’s war,” John agreed. “Demons are marching toward us as we speak. Sam and Dean saw an army headed south. And that was a few weeks ago. Azazel had planned on using me as some type of pawn in his attack, but Dean and Castiel rescued me. Then Sam killed Azazel. He’s dead.”  
  
Samuel scowled suspiciously. “Demons like him don’t just...die.”  
  
“He’s dead,” Sam assured him. “Leave it at that.”  
  
Samuel’s eyes narrowed. Dean knew there would be a lot more conversations to follow this one. And good ole grandpa was gonna want that demon killing knife. It made him wonder if he’d even heard of the Colt.  
  
“But what will Azazel’s people do?” Henriksen asked. “Retaliate? Fall apart?”  
  
“Alastair will attempt to run both camps,” Gabriel said confidently. “Whether he can do that without mutiny or dissension is another matter. Either way, the troops are heading our way, leader or not.”  
  
“Why? Why would Michael do this?” Donna asked, arms crossed over her chest as if there were a new chill in the room.  
  
Gabriel met her gaze. “I intend to find out.”  
  
“What exactly are your intentions?” John asked, leaning forward.  
  
“I intend to right the wrong of my brother. Communication has slowed this way down on our end. But at least Michael still thinks we’re oblivious. At least, he did when I left. The longer we’re gone, the more suspicious it looks.” He cleared his throat, meeting John’s eyes. “I intend to gather my own troops, Castiel doing the same, and we intend to fight side by side to keep Freeland open and Lawrence closed to monsters. Even ourselves.”  
  
“These people aren’t ready to fight,” Samuel huffed.  
  
“Then we’ll get ready,” Dean said defiantly. “We certainly aren’t going to sit back and let our towns become overrun with demons.”  
  
“We’ll have to make people aware that there is a problem in the first place,” John said calmly. “As you saw, they don’t even know your kind exist. To convince them of that is going to be a challenge.”  
  
“Then we will help you,” Castiel said firmly. “My legion will be ready within days. I will return in three days to help.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll do the same. Station someone with horses available at the site we flew into to speed things up.”  
  
“I’ll do that,” John nodded. “And on a practical note, it is worth keeping in mind that winter is coming. And while the cold might not affect demons, it does affect us humans.  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Gather troops as quickly as you can. Castiel and I will be able to move them to where we need you when the time comes. And I fear that time will be very soon.”  
  
John nodded.  
  
Missouri stood. “Gabriel, Mage of Monday, thank you for helping us.” She bowed her head, Charlie stood to do the same. Dean was the next to be on his feet, bowing his head. All the others followed.  
  
Gabriel lifted a hand, “Thank you.” As they all looked up again, everyone still in awe of two sets of huge wings in the room, Gabriel went on. “I am ashamed that Michael has enlisted the ruthless help of demons. I have no idea how bloody this war will be or how many of every kind will suffer, but I swear on my life that I will stop him.”  
  
Gabriel and John exchanged a nod.   
  
They all sat again, except Gabriel and Castiel.  
  
“I’ll fly back to the place we landed today by noon in three days. Have two horses ready to carry nephilim back here. And I’ll be leaving tonight. John, I’d like you to appoint one to two people you trust and form a small delegate that will be privy to war plans from Lawrence and Haven. We will have to work together to win this war. If Michael stays out of the fight, I will only have him to deal with. If his legion fights, you’re going to need clear communication with our legions.”  
  
“Understood,” John said.   
  
“You’ve seen an army marching?” Henriksen asked, looking at Dean and Sam.  
  
“We did,” Sam answered. “It was over a hundred demons marching, singing about having Dad locked in a dungeon.” Chills made him shiver.  
  
“They’ve employed werewolves to spy,” Charlie added.  
  
“And that particular army had four hellhounds,” Castiel added.  
  
“What’s a hellhound?” John asked, the others looking fearfully curious.  
  
“They’re giant dogs that can tear a man to shreds. In ancient times, they were used to kill and carry the soul to Hell.”  
  
“And they’re invisible,” Dean added.  
  
“Nephilim can see them,” Castiel corrected. “They are extremely fast, strong, and kill without mercy. They are the only creature that can latch onto a soul. If someone is killed by a hellhound, even in death, their soul can be carried to a demon or destroyed. I don’t even understand how they are controlling them.”  
  
“Great,” John added.  
  
“It is not great,” Castiel frowned.  
  
Dean bit his lip, knowing it wasn’t the time to laugh, but the look on his dad’s face almost made him lose it.  
  
“I was being sarcastic,” John said slowly, starting to grin.  
  
Cas tipped his head. “Right.”  
  
“I’ll be leaving now,” Gabriel announced, letting his wings fade to the other plane, Cas following suit.  
  
“I’ll ride out with you,” Sam offered. “I’ll have our horses ready at the barn in a few minutes.”  
  
Gabriel nodded, Sam leaving quickly.  
  
“John,” Gabriel said, leaning forward, placing one palm on the table. “I’d like a word.”  
  
John stood, heading to the door.  
  
“You too,” he added, nodding at Dean.  
  
Dean glanced at the others as he stood, following Cas and Gabriel out of the room. John led them to a small meeting room, closing the door.  
  
“I don’t understand your...system here,” Gabriel frowned. “Are you in charge here or is there a king or...?”  
  
“There is a system of sheriffs. Each town has a sheriff to pass judgement and keep the law,” John explained. “Henriksen is Lebanon’s sheriff, but I am Head Sheriff, an elected position to settle disputes not handled by local sheriffs. And each sheriff has a witch. They have their own system of assigning and managing witch matters.”  
  
“And Samuel?” Gabriel asked.  
  
John grimaced. “Samuel is sheriff in Kansas. He’s also my overbearing former father-in-law.”  
  
“Do you trust your sheriffs?”  
  
“I trust none of them want to be demon suits.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Gabriel grinned. “How many are there?”  
  
“Thirty. Thirty-one including me.”  
  
“Each sheriff needs to rally their own men. I need numbers and exact locations on a good map to fly assistance in.”  
  
John nodded. “We should also talk about Needham. Crowley is -”  
  
“I’m familiar with Crowley,” Gabriel nodded. “I’ll be going to see him soon. And we’ll see what we can do about Dean’s contract.”  
  
Dean’s chest froze, heart stopping as his eyes met his father’s.  
  
John’s eyes met his in confusion.  
  
Gabriel glanced between the two. “Ah shit.”  
  
“What contract?” John asked sharply, his color paling.  
  
Dean licked his lips as Cas’ hand landed firmly on his back.  
  
“Dean sold his soul to pay for transport to and from Purgatory to rescue you,” Castiel explained coldly.  
  
“WHAT?” John’s hands flew to his own head, his eyes going wide. “DEAN! What? Why? Why would you do that, son?”  
  
Dean was even more startled that his dad looked near to tears. He’d expected anger.  
  
“No! Dean!” John circled, one hand covering his mouth as his eyes stared at Dean in fear. “You signed a contract?”  
  
“I...” Dean wanted to crawl under a rock.  
  
“Your soul??” John dropped into a chair, bending over as if he might be sick.  
  
Dean glanced at Gabriel who mouthed he was sorry.  
  
“I intend to do anything in my power to fix this deal,” Castiel assured John.  
  
“Oh Dean,” John moaned in a pained voice. His head lifted, meeting Dean’s eyes. He had never seen his father look so full of pain. “I’m not worth that, son. No one is. Your soul is all you got in the end. After everything you do...make a living, find love, fight for your country, all those things are just what you do. We all die, Dean! The one thing I thought I could always count on, no matter what I did in my life, was to have my boys in the veil. Dean.”  
  
Dean felt like he was ten years old again. Like he’d done the worst thing in the world to disappoint his father. Only...he was no child. And he had disappointed him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, eyes dropping to the floor.  
  
“He was desperate to save you, John,” Castiel said gently.  
  
“Son.” John stood up, taking Dean by the shoulders. “No one is worth that. Do you understand me?”  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
“Your soul is who you are. It’s your freedom after the toil of living. No one has a right to that. No one is more important than you are to yourself.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, unable to meet his dad’s hurt eyes. He closed his eyes, fighting tears as his dad pulled him into a steely hug.  
  
“Dammit Dean.”  
  
His dad let him go, looking now to the sprites. “Can you help him?”  
  
The sprites exchanged a look.   
  
Gabriel cleared his voice. “I have a lot to talk to Crowley about. It’ll be at the top of my list. I’ll do all I can.”  
  
John nodded. “Thank you.”  
  
Gabriel turned to Cas. “I gotta go. In the morning, I want you to fly to my library where you left from. Can you do that?”  
  
Castiel nodded. “I can.”  
  
“Noon. If I’m not there, go directly to my chambers as if I’ve asked you to meet me. If I haven’t returned by nightfall or if Michael would be there, come back here. I have no idea what I’m flying into there.”  
  
“Understood,” Castiel nodded.  
  
He clapped Cas on the shoulder, gave the Winchesters a nod and walked out of the room.  
  
Castiel turned to John. “If Gabriel cannot convince Crowley to let Dean out of their deal, I will end it.”  
  
John gave him a hesitant look, conveying something Dean could not grasp. “I can’t ask you to do that.”  
  
“You did not ask it,” Castiel stated flatly.  
  
John nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Castiel nodded and John gave Dean one last forlorn look before leaving the room.  
  
Dean felt like he’d missed something. “Cas, what are planning on doing? Killing Crowley?”  
  
Cas’ eyes slid to his, his shoulders stiff and formal. “I do not believe that would work. Your soul would simply transfer to his next demon in charge, Meg. It is stated as such in the contract.”  
  
Dean glanced down at his shirt-covered chest. “You read it?”  
  
“Several times,” Cas said quietly.  
  
“So...what then?”  
  
Cas looked at the floor.  
  
Dean’s mind drew a blank until the unthinkable occurred to him. His gut churned immediately, and he broke out into a sweat. “Cas...you are not exchanging your soul for mine.”  
  
Cas’ mouth firmed into a hard line as his beautiful eyes raised to his.  
  
“Oh, there is no fucking way that is happening!” Dean yelled. “No!”  
  
Cas licked his lips, evading his eyes.  
  
“Cas!” Dean gripped his shirt in his hands. “You promise me right now!”  
  
Cas put his hands over Dean’s. “I will not promise that, Dean.”  
  
“You son of a bitch!” Dean lost it, tears sprang to his eyes and his hands shook. “No, Cas! I’m just a, a, a stupid human that made a bad deal! You’re YOU! Mage of Thursday! A legion is counting on you! My whole fucking country!”  
  
Cas removed Dean’s hands, crushing Dean’s heart at the passive look in his eyes.  
  
“No, Cas,” Dean said, his voice cracking, stepping back.  
  
“Perhaps Gabriel will have a better plan,” Cas said stoically, turning toward the door.  
  
“Cas,” Dean grabbed his sleeve, “I’m begging you not to do this.” He wiped off his face, pleading with Cas with his eyes. “Please, Cas.”  
  
Cas turned, staring at him as if he understood nothing. “Your soul burns brighter than a hundred nephilim, Dean. But I will endure. Even under the tyrannical ownership of Crowley. And even after millennia, knowing you are with your family in the veil will be enough.”  
  
“What?” Dean crumbled inside. “No! And be in the veil without you? I won’t go!”  
  
Cas tilted his head, his eyes full of sorrow. He glanced away, looking like he might take off.  
  
Dean stepped back. “I made this fucking deal, Cas. You are not taking the fall for me.”   
  
Cas narrowed his eyes at him.  
  
Dean knew one sure-fire way to beat Cas from getting to Crowley first.  
  
Death.  
  
He pulled his dagger from his belt, wincing at the iron-clad grip suddenly catching his wrist. Cas had stepped in so fast Dean had not even seen him coming. The dagger dropped to the floor with a clatter and he found himself shoved against the wall, Cas still gripping his wrist, but otherwise just hugged him.  
  
“No, Dean.”  
  
Dean struggled until he just couldn’t fight. He slumped in Cas’ arms, his head dropping onto Cas’ shoulder. His free arm, which had been shoving and pounding against Cas’ shoulder, now wrapped around him, clinging to his back. “I can’t let you do it, Cas!” Dean’s head came up, back to tears as Cas met his eyes, so full of sadness. “I love you, Cas! Read my mind! I swear!”  
  
Cas licked his lips, wiping off Dean’s cheek with his thumb as a tear streaked his panicked face. “I love you too, Dean.”  
  
“No, I don’t think you get it, Cas!” Dean was desperate. “If you die, I live forever in misery knowing your soul was taken by Crowley in exchange for mine?!” He searched Cas’ eyes. “Don’t do that to me, Cas. It’ll...break me. I couldn’t be happy knowing you were miserable. I just...”  
  
“Okay,” Castiel relented.  
  
Dean’s racing, desperate mind stuttered to a halt. “Okay?” He sniffed, wiping his face off with his sleeve.  
  
“Okay,” Cas repeated, kissing his cheek, sliding to his mouth.  
  
Dean kissed him back, both hands free to grip his sprite. He took a deep breath as a feeling of love pressed through his rattled mind.  
  
“I love you too,” Dean gasped between kisses.  
  
Cas cupped his hand on Dean’s cheek, delving deeper.  
  
Dean filled with peace. Love. His mind calmed. Cas was so great. He chuckled at the pure joy of kissing him. His thoughts flitted to a hazy jostle and he pulled away, staring at Cas. “What...” there was something important going on a minute ago, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Or was there? He stared for several seconds and blinked. “Cas?”  
  
Cas looked at him nervously. “Yes?”  
  
“...what were we doing?”  
  
“Your father knows about the contract with Crowley.”  
  
Right. His dad was so upset. So scared. He hadn’t expected that.  
  
“But Gabriel and I are going to take care of it.”  
  
“Right.” Dean tried to remember more but everything went hazy after that. And then they were kissing. “I feel so bad that my dad’s upset.”  
  
“I know,” Cas said gently, stepping back, letting his hands drop from Dean. “But I assured him I am going to take care of it.”  
  
“Right,” Dean nodded. Something still felt off, but he couldn’t remember enough to figure out what it was. He rubbed his head. “Man...I’m tired.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “We should return to your father’s meeting.”  
  
“Right,” Dean agreed. “We better go.”  
  
  
  
****************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel sat at the meeting table with a brand-new feeling and he did not like it.  
  
Shame.  
  
He had lied to Dean. He had used his grace to take away the memory of confessing that he intended to exchange his soul for Dean’s in Crowley’s deal. He had done what he had never done before and used his grace to manipulate someone’s mind without their permission. It sat as ugly and sharp as the black stone full of evil that Gabriel had pulled from his wing. He felt sinister. And ashamed. But he had done it to protect Dean. And in a realization that cut worse than the demon’s blade had, he wondered if when Dean realized what had happened, if he would even miss him when they were in the veil. His anger may fester to hatred and all they’d had would be their time on the road and Ellen’s apartment.  
  
“Cas?” Dean asked, leaning toward him.  
  
Castiel met his green eyes, shying away from them with guilt. As he glanced around, the others were waiting for him, it seemed, to say something. “I’m sorry, I was...preoccupied. Repeat the question please.”  
  
“I asked you if you could fly around and get the other sheriffs before you leave tomorrow,” John said.  
  
“Oh. No. Currently flight is quite restricted in Lawrence. I can only fly in and out of that spot along the road outside of town.”  
  
“So, how are you gonna move troops around?” Samuel asked.  
  
Castiel had wondered the same thing. “Gabriel will share more about that later.”  
  
Samuel and John exchanged an uncertain look.  
  
“We’ll leave at first light,” John said, taking a map from one of the cases near the table. “Let’s divide this into territories. I’ll gather the 4 sheriffs from the Lower Flats. Henriksen, you gather the four from the south. Dean, take the Highlands. There are 7 sheriffs there. Samuel, you can head to the Upper Flats to gather the other seven sheriffs near Campbell Compound. And Bobby, can I send you to the northwest?”  
  
“Anything ta help,” Bobby nodded.  
  
“Just stay out of Needham. The sprites are taking care of that.”  
  
Bobby nodded, glancing at Dean, who furrowed his brow in thought. It worried Castiel. If he prodded too hard, the memory would come back. And over time, the memory would come back on its own.  
  
“John,” Missouri interjected, “I would like to send word for their witches to come as well. I have a feeling we’ll be needed. And I’ll send Patience to Freeland to get word to Rowena.”  
  
John nodded. “So, as we send sheriffs to Lebanon, send their witches with them.” Samuel, Bobby, and Henriksen all nodded agreement.  
  
Missouri leaned over to talk quietly with Charlie as John went on.  
  
“Sam took Gabriel tonight and Dean can escort Castiel tomorrow, but I want a small stable and men stationed here.” He jabbed a finger at the map to where they had flown in along Lebanon Road. “We need messengers on stand-by 24/7 until Gabriel does something about this flying business.”  
  
Castiel listened as plans came into place. Widespread word was to be put out about getting anti-possession tattoos, marking every home and business with a devil’s trap, informing everyone that war was imminent. John was a good leader. He knew his people well. And everyone, save Samuel, respected his lead. It would be important that John maintain that authority to keep his people organized.  
  
Dean turned to him with a questioning look. “When did Gabriel leave?”  
  
Castiel swallowed nervously. “When we were in the meeting with your father.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Huh. The whole meeting was kinda hazy.”   
  
Castiel began to worry that he had done a very bad thing. Luckily, John kept Dean busy for the next hour.  
  
By the time they dismissed, Dean had a list of things to do and they were all exhausted. John introduced Castiel to all the people at the meeting, letting them see a small demonstration of him making flame. The humans all seemed delighted, yet very suspicious of him and sprites in general. He was able to answer some questions and seemed to gain favor among them. As they were leaving, Donna tracked him down.  
  
“Mr. Castiel, your mage or excellence,” she stumbled, looking worried to not offend him. Her sweet demeanor made him grin.  
  
“Castiel, is fine,” he assured her.  
  
“Oh! Alrighty, Castiel, sir, your quarters are ready.”  
  
Dean smirked at him. “You get the fancy quarters. Lucky you.”  
  
Castiel felt disappointed. He should have known etiquette would demand they not be allowed to just share Dean’s room.  
  
“The swan quarters?” Dean asked her.   
  
“You betcha.”  
  
“I’ll be there in a little bit,” Dean said. “I gotta do a few things first but...” Dean licked his lips, pulling Castiel to the side. “I was thinking...if you want...I mean, I’d like to get a sigil. Just you and me. Ya know, in case I don’t end up Crowley’s chew toy.” He grinned but it slid a little.  
  
Castiel’s heart swelled. “I would be honored.”   
  
Dean huffed a laugh, edging into a shy grin. “Yeah? It’d be...” his eyes searched Castiel’s, “I’d be honored too, Cas.”  
  
Castiel knew his cheeks flushed with joy and love. What broke his heart was that the likelihood of the two of them meeting in the afterlife was extremely slim at this point. Even Dean knew that.  
  
But if there were any chance...he’d take it.  
  
“I’ll, uh, bring Charlie with me then,” Dean blushed, stepping backwards as he rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“Alright,” Castiel grinned.  
  
“Okay,” Dean blushed harder.  
  
“Okay,” Castiel grinned harder.  
  
Dean bit his lips together and turned, leaving to go after his brother and father. Castiel turned, catching sight of Donna standing there waiting for him with a huge grin of her own.  
  
“He’s a special one, that Dean.”  
  
“He is,” Castiel admitted.  
  
“So...humans and sprites is a thing?”  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes. Humans said things so oddly sometimes. But he was becoming adept at understanding what they meant. “Yes, humans and sprites do co -”  
  
“Okie dokie then!” Donna cut him off. “Just follow me and I’ll show you to the swan suite.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! This fic is big and crazy! So many locations, characters, and moments from the show! Thank you, every one of you, who are going on this journey with me. Kudos to ALL of you ❤️❤️❤️  
> The next chapter is chalked full of smut, so buckle up! It should be posted on Saturday!


	19. The Swan Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh, snap.  
> This is a short chapter but several important things happen in it.
> 
> Aw...disappointed you are getting a short chapter? Oooookay, I’ll post two!  
> Lol! Love you guys! Have a great weekend!

Chapter 19: The Swan Suite  
  
  
  
  
Castiel followed Donna to his assigned quarters. He and Dean had a way of making everyone around them blush.  
  
He followed her through the foyer, up a wide set of stairs and along several corridors. The bunker reminded him of Campbell Compound in its structure and bustling inhabitants. But the people here were much more friendly, speaking kindly and with familiarity to Donna and giving him friendly waves of greeting. The corridors at Campbell Compound were cold, solid stone that echoed footsteps. The halls here were warmly lit and had long carpets that softened their steps. Between the oil sconces, many paintings hung depicting landscapes and people, animals, and pleasant collections of household items. He wondered at the simplicity of a large oil painting of a pear. There was something pleasant about the bright color of the fruit that reminded him of Gabriel’s home.  
  
Ahead of him, Donna opened a large, wooden door, leading him into a room decorated in blue curtains and two leather chairs and a high-backed leather sofa. Blue pillows adorned them, accenting the blue of the curtains and paintings. A collection of paintings depicting swans adorned the walls, giving the room the descriptive name, everyone referred to it as.  
  
“This is your private bath chamber,” Donna said, opening a door. “And this is your private bed chamber,” she smiled, opening a second door.  
  
Everything the woman said was in a sing-song melody that made Castiel smile. “Thank you, Donna.”  
  
“You betcha!” She paused by the door, one hand on the handle. “Do ya mind me askin’? But...do sprites sleep?”  
  
“We do,” Castiel grinned.  
  
“Right.” Her grin faded as she stepped into the threshold. “I meant what I said earlier. Dean is a special one. I’ve known him for the past ten years and watched him grow into the fine young man he is.”  
  
There was a warning in her kind eyes. And even though she exuded kind-caregiver, Castiel had no doubt she could protect as well as any lioness.  
  
“I understand,” he said gravely. “Dean is...very special to me as well.”  
  
She smiled, giving him a little nod, then left him alone.  
  
Castiel turned to stare out the window that overlooked the courtyard. Evening was late and a fine mist had settled in. Two oil lamps burned brightly at the gate, as they had the night he arrived so long ago. Dogs milled about the cobblestone square, protecting the bunker and even the chicken coops to the side of the building. He had come such a long way since he entered John Winchester’s courtyard.  
  
He ran his hand along the imperfect, but smooth top of a table that had four chairs with it. As with most all human accompaniments, there was a ruggedness that was so different from the smooth nephilim-created furnishings he had grown up with. He hoped Gabriel’s return went smoothly. That Michael remained unaware of his and Gabriel’s true whereabouts. He berated himself for not asking more questions about whether he had been usurped of his position as Mage of Thursday due to his disappearance. Rachel, Hannah, and Samandriel surely noted his leave as suspicious. Nephilim did not just disappear. Especially ones in his position. He wished he and Gabriel had at least got their excuses coordinated to tell a seamless tale. He did not like lying. It made his stomach hurt. He stared at the painting in front of him of a lakeshore dotted with swans.  
  
He turned as a knock sounded on the door and it opened.  
  
“Hey,” Dean grinned, coming in the room, Charlie and Jo following him.  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
“Castiel,” Charlie grinned, nodding respectfully.  
  
“Charlie, Jo. Thank you for doing this for us.”  
  
“Absolutely,” she smiled, sitting her supplies on the table next to him. She bit her lip as she put her hands on her hips and her red ponytail swung as she looked between him and Dean. “Are you both sure about this?”  
  
“Yep,” Dean grinned boldly.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel assured her.  
  
Charlie got down to work, pulling an array of items out of her bag. “I gotta warn you, this one’s gonna burn. It’s got gun powder in it.”  
  
“Well, then don’t put that in,” Dean frowned.  
  
“It’s not up to me. The veil knows what you need. I just put in what I’m led to put in,” she shrugged, tossing a sprig of spearmint in the bowl. She added several powders and dried, ground cornflowers, stems and all, adding them next.   
  
“Is that gold?” Jo asked, holding up a tiny vile of gold powder.  
  
“Yeah, their bond comes at a high price,” Charlie said, glancing at the pair of them.  
  
“But the veil IS calling you to make this?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Oh yeah,” she chuckled. “I’ve been picking up tidbits along the way since I met you.” She coiled a thin leather cord into the bowl.  
  
Castiel sat on the sofa, watching with interest. Witches were truly peculiar, insightful creatures. And if the veil encouraged ingredients, then their bond was something that could have a future. Maybe Gabriel would find a way.  
  
Dean circled the living room, glancing around at things he surely had already seen. “You seen your room yet, Cas?”  
  
“I have not,” Castiel answered, wondering why Dean looked so pensive.  
  
“Come check it out,” Dean grinned, waving him in. “We’ll be out in a minute, ladies.”  
  
The girls grinned, going back to work as Castiel walked into the bedroom. A large, fluffy bed took the center of the room with a tall, thick, wooden headboard crowning it. A flying swan took up the large stretch of wood and more swan paintings hung in this room as well. The large mattress was draped in warm, blue blankets. His hand stretched out, feeling the soft fabric and thick down filling. He longed to crawl under the layers and lay with Dean.  
  
He jumped slightly as the door shut with a slam. Castiel turned to see Dean standing there, chin tipped down and eyes hard as stone. “Guess you thought you’d wipe my memory clean?”  
  
Chills ran down Castiel’s arms. “Dean -”  
  
He pointed an accusing finger at Castiel that might as well have been a sword. “Admit it.”  
  
Castiel held his hands out to the sides, placating. “You were scaring me.”  
  
Some of Dean’s edge melted. His hand dropped to his side. “Apparently you suck at memory magic. I knew something was up and Charlie cleared the cobwebs for me.”  
  
Clever witches. Castiel sighed, his shoulders stiffening. “I would do it again.”  
  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, that’s a problem. You can’t mess with my head. Now I have zero trust in you.”  
  
Castiel felt wounded. “Dean, I’m sorry. But you were going to harm yourself. Kill yourself!”  
  
“To stop you from selling your soul!”  
  
Castiel searched for the right words. “I cannot let this contract steal your soul, Dean. It would haunt me forever. I...”  
  
Dean nodded his jaw still hard, but the depths of his eyes had gone softer. “So, I’M supposed to live forever without you? Knowing you’re a slave to a demon? For a deal I made?”  
  
There was no right answer here. Castiel begged with his eyes that Dean at least understand why he had used his grace to steal the moment.  
  
Dean paced slowly toward the window and back.  
  
“Dean, I am sorry.”  
  
Dean nodded, sitting on the bed.  
  
Castiel stepped closer to him, wishing he could just reach out and touch Dean like he had grown accustomed to.  
  
“How am I supposed to trust you now?” Dean said quietly, hurt in every word. “How do I know you won’t just mess with my mind to make me do what you want?”  
  
Castiel took another step closer, their knees almost touching. Dean’s anger had abated. But the hurt was worse. He was desperate to make Dean understand just how deeply he cared for him. How quickly he had fallen for Dean was sudden and uncharacteristic, especially to a Thursday. But he had never experienced anything anywhere near what he felt for Dean.   
  
“Would my word mean anything to you?” Castiel asked, barely above a whisper. “Because, I swear to you, I will never do that again. Dean, I didn’t know what else to do.”  
  
Dean stood, Castiel having to take a step back to give him room. “You swear?”  
  
Castiel’s eyes darted to Dean’s knife. Could he promise something like that?  
  
Dean pursed his lips. “If I swear to not kill myself to beat you to Crowley, do you swear to stay out of my head unless I invite you in?”  
  
“I swear it,” Castiel said instantly, his eyes meeting Dean’s. “I promise.”  
  
The very air between them felt fragile.  
  
“I don’t know how we’re gonna get there, but I have every intention of getting to that room in the veil with you. That’s why I brought Charlie along. To prove to you that I am not giving up on us, Cas. I shouldn’t have done what I did. But you gotta understand, you can’t take my place for Crowley. Either I get rid of this deal or I hold up my end.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He understood Dean’s resolute stance. But his promise was to stay out of Dean’s head. And that is what he swore to. There was no way in a thousand worlds that he would allow Dean to belong to anyone other than him.  
  
“I am not giving up on us either, Dean. And I intend to see you in the veil as well.” Castiel bowed his head, taking Dean’s hand, brushing a kiss along his knuckles. “Please forgive me.”  
  
Dean’s stern demeanor wavered.  
  
Castiel pulled Dean’s hand to his chest, cradling it in both his hands as he stared just as intensely as Dean.  
  
Dean shifted on his feet, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Okay, Cas. I forgive you.”  
  
Castiel smiled. “I’m happy you know. The lie was making me quite uncomfortable.”   
  
Dean’s hand squeezed his back. “Good.”  
  
“If you want to wait to do the sigil, I would understand,” Castiel said quietly.   
  
Dean shook his head no, leaning toward him. “It’s a promise that someday, I will see you again.”  
  
Castiel kissed him, letting go of his hand to wrap his arms around him. Dean gasped, his head pulling back at the rush of grace Castiel had lost his grip on. It flooded Dean with love and worry. “Sorry,” he murmured, pulling it back inside. He licked his lips as Dean’s eyes opened again. They were a sea of forest green as he took a deep breath, leaned in, and kissed him again.  
  
The kiss had power and promise, making them both take a breath as they parted. Dean took his hand this time. “Ready?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel grinned.  
  
They went into the outer room, where Charlie and Jo sat at the table waiting for them.  
  
“Sorry for the delay,” Dean said, cheer infusing his voice. Castiel knew Dean could put on a smile whether he felt like smiling or not. But the sigil was something Castiel longed for. Dean was correct. The sigil was a promise.  
  
On the table lay the familiar tools Charlie had used the night their group got their sigils. Several small pots, a thick, glass bottle, the vaniculum, the bronze knife, and three candles, which were burning bright and tall.  
  
Charlie merely smiled at them as they took seats at the table. Castiel could see crushed amethyst, charcoal, and apple seeds scattered on the table. He knew every batch was unique, but this one had more ingredients than the one their group had used.  
  
“Are you both absolutely sure you want to do this?” Charlie asked.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel answered, giving the witch a confident nod.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt already.  
  
“Are we being open and honest?” She asked, giving Dean a perceptive look.

“We are,” Castiel said, a blush of shame heating his skin. “I did apologize for my poor choice of altering Dean’s memory.”

Dean gave him a firm grin then turned to Charlie. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay!” She picked up the bottle, heating it over a flame as she murmured incantations. A dry, hot smell tickled Castiel’s nose. He liked it. It was complicated and rich in aroma.  
  
The candles flared, making Castiel jump slightly, making the three grin at him.  
  
“Ready for blood,” Charlie said quietly, a smile playing about her lips as she worked.  
  
Dean held his hand out and she cut it. Blood drained into an empty small bowl. Dean winced. He started to pull his hand back, but Charlie held it fast.  
  
“More?” Dean frowned.  
  
“Apparently,” Charlie shrugged, watching his blood drain steadily. “Okay.”  
  
Castiel took his hand, healing him instantly. Dean gave him a gentle smile, making Castiel practically glow inside.  
  
He held his hand out for Charlie, watching the diligent witch at work. She cut the side of his palm, watching as the blood ran into the bowl to mingle with Dean’s.  
  
“That’s enough,” she said quietly.   
  
Castiel pulled his hand away, healing it easily as she combined the blood with the ingredients in the bottle. She took it to the fireplace, heating it for several moments.   
  
“Why is there so much more this time?” Castiel asked as Charlie poured it into the bottle again, filling it full.   
  
She brought it back to the table, holding it over a flame of one of the candles. “This is exactly what I was led to put in it,” Charlie explained.  
  
“But...it’s only for Dean and myself,” Castiel frowned. “We won’t have to drink that, will we?”  
  
“No,” Charlie said, seeming to know more than what she was saying.  
  
Dean was staring at the full bottle with out-right suspicion. “Charlie,” he said quietly.  
  
“Just go with it, Dean. Mother Nature doesn’t lie.”  
  
“What am I missing?” Castiel asked, looking between the three.  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes on the glass bottle. “Jug full like that? That’s a family starter if ever I saw one.”  
  
“Right you are,” Charlie grinned, swirling the contents over the flame.  
  
“Family starter?” Castiel asked.  
  
“So, I’ll give you two your sigil, then pack this away for you to add sigils later to your family members.”  
  
Castiel’s brow raised.  
  
“Congratulations,” Jo said with a teasing little grin.  
  
Castiel turned to Dean for clarification.  
  
“Our kids. Their kids. Their kids’ kids,” Dean grinned.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
Oh! The universe was giving him hope in the form of a concoction of ingredients in a glass jar. He and Dean were...what? Destined for more? The start of a new family?  
  
Dean’s eyes were green as grass in a warm spring meadow. Joy. Happiness. The start of hope. He found himself grinning, taking Dean’s hand into his.  
  
“Anything can happen,” Charlie noted. “I’ve made family starters before and nothing happens. But the potential is here.” The flames went out with a sudden whoosh. “It’s ready.”  
  
Dean and Castiel laid their arms on the table, their other hands clasped tight beneath it. Potential. They had potential for a family. A legacy. Human and Nephilim.   
  
Charlie placed the vaniculum with the glass bottom flat on Castiel’s arm, just below the crease of his elbow. She poured the mixture in, letting it puddle into the spoon-like basin of the contraption. Dean squeezed his hand as Charlie squeezed the lever and the mixture swirled and dug into his skin with a burning sting. His mouth parted as he felt a jolt of something tinge his system from bones to grace to soul. As before, the mixture disappeared beneath his skin and Charlie pulled the vaniculum away.  
  
The four of them watched carefully as the sensation traveled Castiel’s entire body and then burst from his arm in a blinding, white light. They all looked back quickly to see the new black sigil on his skin. A black infinity symbol, the top right loop line feathered out into a feather. The left lower loop line then interrupted with a star.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
Castiel gripped Dean’s hand as tightly as if he had just looked into the new face of their first-born child. A new life. A new room in the veil. He and Dean infinite. He looked up to see Dean’s eyes slightly tearful. He leaned forward, kissing him. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Dean whispered back.  
  
Charlie moved to repeat the ritual to Dean’s arm. As she squeezed the glass slide away, Castiel squeezed his hand. Dean hissed as the liquid sunk into his skin, disappearing. An odd look crossed his face and he blinked rapidly. “Feels so...” Dean took a deep breath as a flush covered his skin and a white light flared from his arm. Castiel held fast to Dean’s hand and they all stared at the matching sigil. “Damn. I’ve never felt a sigil like that before.”  
  
Charlie began cleaning her bowls and tools, packing them away. “It’s an infinity symbol,” she explained, “the feather for Castiel being a nephilim, and the star representing man.” She stopped her cleaning to stare at them both seriously. “You are also on opposite sides of the infinity, not aligned together. If this bond is going to flourish, you two have to work out a major divide.” She frowned, looking down at the table in thought. “The ingredients could be interpreted several ways as well. Someone, or both of you will pay a high price for this. And there were so many core elements...like so many parts that were only Dean or only Cas.” She shook her head, looking back up at them. “But there was a lot of blood too. Blood means a lot of things. Love, family, the tie itself, history...and blood, like, injury. Your relationship is far from over. What you do with it...how you let things affect you, and how you treat each other will define the actual bond.” She corked the bottle and said an incantation, lettering and their new sigil appearing on the bottle. The lovely infinity symbol with the name Winchester beneath it.  
  
“Congratulations,” Charlie grinned, sliding the bottle across the table to them.  
  
“Damn,” Dean grinned, letting go of Castiel’s hand to pick it up. “I don’t know why, but I figured your last name would be on it, Cas.”  
  
Castiel frowned. “I do not have a last name. Nephilim simply go by their name and their legion.”  
  
Dean turned to him with a proud grin. “Guess you get to take my name then.”  
  
Castiel’s heart was thumping loud in his chest. “I did not know that sharing a symbol included marriage.”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Charlie explained. “But this is pretty obvious.”  
  
Castiel was shocked. Not that he doubted it. It was just a lot to take in. A family. Or...a long relationship. That could mean all the blood meant all he was going to sacrifice to save Dean. Of course, that would leave an infinite mark on someone. It really made more sense than the likelihood that they would produce many children together. But the joy in Dean’s eyes made the thoughts perk up and take note. They could be fathers together. It could mean all the beautiful things that seemed to make Dean’s eyes smile and soften.   
  
He wondered how this would affect his role as Mage of Thursday. Then, he realized just how removed he felt from Nephilim life altogether. And just how little he looked forward to returning to Haven at all.   
  
“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” Jo said, taking Charlie’s bag and her hand.  
  
“Do you have another glass bottle?” Castiel asked, standing as the ladies took a step toward the door.  
  
Charlie dug through the velvety bag, pulling out a palm-size bottle and handed it to him.  
  
He took the corked bottle and squeezed it, turning his hand over to reveal he had filled it with his own blood. “A token of thanks for creating our sigil, witch Bradbury.”  
  
She took the offered bottle with a look of awe. “Thank you, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son.”  
  
They both bowed their heads with a grin, then they left, closing the door, leaving Dean and Castiel alone for the night.  
  
Dean stared at the new sigil on his arm in the light from the fireplace, rubbing his thumb over it. Castiel extended his arm in greeting.  
  
Dean looked up, taking his arm, their thumbs landing naturally. Placed high to their elbows, the greeting brought them close automatically.  
  
“You okay with all this?” Dean asked quietly.  
  
“It fills my heart with joy that the universe has seen fit to smile on our bond, Dean. It gives me hope.”  
  
“Me too,” Dean grinned wider, softer.  
  
They kissed. Castiel could feel the tie of closeness they now shared across the threshold of life and death. It was heady and amazing.   
  
They had potential.  
  



	20. The Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice long moment of pleasure for us. I mean, the boys.

Chapter 20: The Plane  
  
  
Dean woke slowly, nuzzling his head into the soft pillow. The mattress beneath him was the softest he had ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. His body ached in a few places, but that was from a long, thorough night of making love. He grinned.   
  
Cas was so fucking gorgeous. And domineering. And oh, fuck, that was hot. And the way he pushed him full of love and lust about made him burst at the seams.   
  
His eyes blinked into a more wakeful state. His back was cold. Cas usually slept wrapped around him like a trumpet vine. He turned, feeling cool sheets touch his bare back. In the shadows of pre-dawn, Cas sat perched on the side of the bed, head bowed.  
  
He sat up, reaching over to touch him. Cas turned, looking at him with a sleepy smile.   
  
Dean scooted closer, brushing several stray locks of hair off his forehead. “You okay?”  
  
Cas took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the bed. “I am. My wing is bothering me.”  
  
Dean scooted even closer, kissing his shoulder. “Can I do anything?”  
  
“I don’t think you can,” Cas said softly.  
  
Dean nudged his side with a playful grin. “How ‘bout you let me try. Charlie gave us some cream to help with the healing.”  
  
Cas gave him a lopsided grin. “You like my wings, don’t you?”  
  
Dean pulled back. “Cas...I love your wings.”  
  
Cas chuckled, his hand landing warmly on Dean’s knee and thigh. “They don’t remind you of how different you and I are?”  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped. “They’re fucking hot.”  
  
Cas laughed. The rich sound made Dean’s insides rumble with joy.   
  
Dean slid around until he was sitting astride his sprite’s naked lap. “Let me touch them.”  
  
His laugh died as an eager grin heated his stubbled cheeks. Without warning, Dean felt the plunge of going to the other plane. The rest of the world shifted to a haze of lavender and Castiel, Mage of Thursday, was naked beneath him with wings of pure ebony spread out around them.  
  
Dean sucked in a deep breath, as he always felt necessary when he dipped into the other plane, his legs hugging Cas’ waist a little tighter. He leaned down, kissing Cas, as his tongue tracked Cas’ lips, his hands slid up his shoulders, nestling into the feathers along the thick ridges. Cas tilted his head, parting his mouth to take his as his hands slid up Dean’s back possessively. With his right hand, Dean combed through the feathers inside his left wing, earning a shiver and a shift of Cas’ hips.  
  
“Does it feel good when I do that?” Dean asked with a teasing grin.  
  
“Very,” Cas growled, nipping his chin.  
  
Dean watched his hand slide among the inner feathers and comb through again as Cas nibbled along his jaw. He weaved deeper, brushing along the skin beneath as Cas dragged his open mouth down Dean’s neck, both groaning. He brought both hands to where the wings met his back, feeling along a set of bumps at the base of each wing. Cas gasped, arching his head back.  
  
“What do we have here?” He bit his bottom lip as Cas arched slightly, his wings extending and arching high. It was exhilarating to see the huge wings puff and canopy above them.  
  
“Dean,” Cas moaned.  
  
“Wow,” Dean whispered, watching Cas flex. Every muscle in his body went rigid as his wings postured high. He massaged around the little lines of bumps, feeling slick oil coat his fingertips. Instinctually, he brought one hand to his nose, smelling the oil.  
  
His head rushed with a dizzy haze at the scent of cinnamon and musk. He stared at the fluid as he rubbed his fingertips together. In an action that was beyond thought, he tasted the oil. Lust burst through him in a tidal wave and he whined at the rush.  
  
Castiel’s head jerked upright, his mouth parted and eyes glowed. “Dean.”  
  
Dean smelled the oil again and met his sprite’s eyes with an equal need. Cas’ hands closed around his waist, sliding down to cup his ass.  
  
Dean panted with anticipation, grinding against Cas’ rock-hard cock. Cas’ wings flapped one hard beat as he rose to his feet, turned, and put Dean on his back in the bed. A solid nothing supported Dean’s back without the feel of blankets or mattress beneath him. It was odd, but barely scratched the surface of his awareness. He was quite a bit more occupied with the sprite climbing over him, wings beating once again, stealing Dean’s breath. Cas’ eyes glowed and power radiated from him.  
  
“Damn,” Dean gasped.  
  
Castiel’s eyes flashed, his entire body rocking and his wings beat again.  
  
Absolute awe spiked inside Dean. Castiel was powerful. He had an urge to roll over and submit in every way. Only his stubborn need to see the massive wings kept him on his back. He watched as the wings swiveled and came to perch at an angle, creating a canopy above them. A wall to shut out the rest of the world.  
  
One of Dean’s hands reached up, delving amongst the feathers to grip them and graze his knuckles along the skin beneath.  
  
Cas growled.  
  
He fucking growled.  
  
“Cas?” Dean whispered, watching him carefully.  
  
Cas turned his head and closed his eyes. The growl faded and he took a breath to steady himself. When he turned back his eyes glowed only softly. “I want to make love to you. Like this.”  
  
“W-with your wings out?” Dean marveled, his fingers massaging into the wing.  
  
“Mmmhmm,” Cas hummed, his mouth landing hot and open on Dean’s. Dean gasped into the kiss, overwhelmed with desire that climbed to heights only wings could mount. Cas pulled away, crouching over him with a predatory look in his sparking eyes.  
  
Dean felt Cas adjust his hips and the now familiar press of his hard cock against his ass.  
  
Castiel searched his eyes, hovering above him.   
  
Sensing Castiel edging into something more angel than human, Dean put his hand on Cas’ chest, palm flat and soft. “Cas?” Dean licked his lips. “Don’t hurt me.”  
  
The light in Cas’ eyes faded to his normal brilliant shade of blue. The powerful set to his jaw softened and his wings relaxed slightly, both touching down around them to enclose them. “I would never,” Castiel swore.  
  
Dean’s arm relaxed, seeing the sprite he had fallen in love with. “I know,” Dean assured him. “You were just gettin’ kinda...angelic.”  
  
Cas grinned crookedly. “I would never hurt you, Dean. No matter how wild you drive me.”  
  
Dean licked his lips again, sliding one leg up around Cas’ waist. “Open me up,” Dean whispered.  
  
Cas leaned down, relief and eagerness in his kiss. Dean could feel his ass tingle, stretch, and lubricate. He ground his hips with a moan. He let his hands creep up into Cas’ wings, feeling his body tighten and react immediately, his cock pressing inside him. They moved together in a slow, steady, undulating roll after roll. Cas pressed up onto his hands, his wings arching sharply. Dean’s hands scrambled to grip beneath him, unable to grab the bedding that was in the other plane. He gripped Cas’ shoulders with one arm and gripped his feathers with the other. As the desire coiled, he wanted to see his angel lose his mind. Even driven wild, Cas had sworn to not hurt him. His hand crept down his back, feeling along the bumps, getting lubricant on his fingers. He spread the lubricant out, into his feathers, the fragrance hitting Dean and Cas at the same instance, hurtling them both into a fevered pace. Dean abandoned the row of bumps, gripping his own cock to stroke himself to climax. Before he could even finish one stroke, Castiel took his hand, pinning both hands above Dean’s head with their fingers laced.   
  
Dean arched back, moaning as Cas began moving faster, their skin slapping together. Cas moaned a broken, needy call of ecstasy.  
  
Dean felt the velvety slide of wings caress his feet and along his legs before the wings arched up again. “Love your wings,” Dean managed, gasping, and holding on to his sprite, alone on a plane of ethereal vagueness, their touch was everything. Their sounds the only noise. Their world all their own. “Cas,” Dean babbled, trying to watch his mighty lover, trying to see the moment but battling to lose himself to it.  
  
The glow was back in Castiel’s eyes, hair bouncing from his forehead in effort. “Mine.”  
  
It was a growl of sorts, a claim.   
  
“You are mine,” Cas growled, thrusting and gripping his hands with a possessive need that filled Dean in a way he had never thought of before. The mark on his shoulder flared, surging with a burst of possession.   
  
Cas leaned down, capturing Dean in a bruising kiss. “I want to bite you, Dean. Claim you. Wrap my grace around your soul until it bares the mark of me.” He panted, thrusting. His glowing eyes left Dean’s, tracking down the slope of his neck. “I want you to be mine.”  
  
“I am.” Dean’s voice sounding wrecked. Raw with emotion and crying out in an orgasm that came from deep within him, bursting hard, making him writhe, fucking against Cas as hard as he could. He gasped, eyes opening again to see the more than human man above him, eyes glowing, wings territorially coveting his prey. Dean gasped, not having meant to come yet.   
  
Castiel crouched lower, kissing him with a hungry grin. “So good, Dean.”  
  
The words made some base instinct in him thrive. He craved the praise, the way Cas needed him. It was so heady that he wilted, laughing dreamily at the wings that would be terrifying in any other light.  
  
Cas’ mouth was on his neck, licking, drumming up a new sensation inside him. His cock, sticky with cum was hard again. He felt Cas’ teeth on him, biting as he rutted into his orgasm, biting hard enough to hold onto him, but not breaking skin. His rough thrusting ground into long, slow, pulsing pushes.   
  
Cas’ teeth eased, not fulfilling something that could have happened. “You gonna bite me, Cas? Is that how you bond?” It was a question that he barely understood. He also wasn’t sure right then if he even had any say in the matter. The latter answered when Cas’ teeth disappeared from his skin, his tongue laving the abused skin. Each lick surged inside Dean, pushing him over the edge again, making him want to beg Cas to bite him. Sink his teeth in until they bonded. Wrap their souls together for the infinity their sigils promised. “Cas! Please!” The beginning of his orgasm climaxed impossibly higher, making him cry out, fall apart, and shatter completely.  
  
He felt Cas kiss his neck, nudge his nose under his jaw to tip his head further and rub his lips along the length of his neck again. Their hips were still, and his wings lay over them in a protective blanket.  
  
Dean breathed back into sanity. He matched his breaths to the steady rise and fall of the wings above him. His hands came back to life, skimming along the smooth skin over Cas’ back, ass, and thighs. Cas lay draped over him, his head laying heavily next to his.  
  
“Cas?” Dean asked, raw with emotion. “Did, did you just bond me?”  
  
Cas’ muscles shifted and he raised his head, their noses close enough to touch. “No.” It came out as a tired pant. His eyes, their normal blue, jotted to Dean’s mouth. “Though I truly wanted to.”  
  
Dean shifted, not minding Cas’ weight, but finding it grounding instead. “Well...why not?” He honestly was torn between feeling relieved and crestfallen.  
  
Cas grinned, much more himself than he had been all morning. “Because I won’t bond with you until you’re free to be mine. Crowley still has a claim on you. It would not be the same. And when we bond, I intend to do it thoroughly, without question.”  
  
Something in Dean broke. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to bond. He really didn’t understand what it even meant for them. But a larger part of him was so frustrated that he had found someone so imperfectly perfect for himself, and couldn’t have him completely.  
  
Cas read some of his struggle. He kissed him sweetly, caressing his hair as his wings swept over his legs lovingly. “Our time will come, Dean.”  
  
Dean swallowed. Where were his snappy retorts? He couldn’t even muster a word for disappointment or shrug it off.  
  
Suddenly, it mattered to him. Something he had not even known existed was now a mountain unattainable.  
  
Cas shifted over him again, pulling Dean up onto his lap, his nephilim-charged dick still lodged soundly in Dean’s ass, making him groan. Dean gave a tentative push up, sinking back down with a sigh, letting Cas’ arms cradle him.   
  
He was ruined.  
  
No one was like Cas.  
  
Not just the multiple orgasms and the way he could push lust and love into him like Donna basted her turkey roasts, suffusing his body skin to core. Not just his handsome face, muscular body, and fantastic fucking wings. All those things could fade away and Dean would still want his gentle touches, his smiles, his look of confusion. The way he held his hand or cuddled up to him to sleep. The deep look of an intelligent, caring person.  
  
Shit. Yeah. He was so ruined.   
  
He leaned his forehead against Castiel’s. He wanted to tell him. He had no idea how to even put it to words. He tipped his chin, kissing Cas’ still-swollen lips. “Read my mind, Cas.”  
  
Cas pulled back, searching his eyes before leaning in to kiss him again. Cas tried, but had to stop, holding him as they sat temple to temple. He was listening.  
  
Dean bit his lip, a wave of shyness coming but going quickly. Cas turned; his lips pressed into a kiss against his forehead as he continued to listen. He could only hope Cas could make sense of his messy head.  
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
Castiel had only listened to Dean a few times. It was usually loud and a bit chaotic with many waves of worry. Each time had been different. But this was shocking even to Castiel.  
  
Clear and firm, it was as if Dean were speaking directly to him. He held his love as tightly as he could while he listened to the calm, certain words. ‘I love you. I am yours. I want to bond with you. I don’t know what that means. I don’t care. You’re mine. No one else will ever compare to this. No one touches me like you do. No one knows this much of me. I want to be with you. Only you. Bite me, Cas. If that’s how you bond, do it. I want it. I want to belong to someone so completely. I’m so sorry for messing this up. Crowley ruined everything. Want you. Just you.’  
  
Castiel closed the constant flow of pure thoughts. The beautiful mind that was Dean’s. He pulled his long kiss from Dean’s forehead, kissing his mouth. “Our time will come, Dean. I would never ask you to agree to bond during sex. I wouldn’t feel right about your sincerity.”  
  
“So, you bite ‘em?” Dean asked, looking nervous about it, shifting his hips. “Why?”  
  
“That is how angels bonded. The bite happens during sex, when they achieve climax. The bond is supposed to link my grace to your soul. We will...feel each other on another, more base, level. It’s an ancient tradition.”  
  
Dean shifted his hips again. “Sounds kinda crazy. Like you own me, but I don’t have a say in it. That how it works?”  
  
Castiel leaned back onto his hands, his wings angling out at a slant, bottom feathers tipped up higher than the ridges. “I would surrender to whatever ownership humans believe in. I am yours, Dean Winchester.”  
  
Dean smirked from his position astride Castiel’s cock. He lifted himself, sinking only a little, to rise and slide down again. “But...you wanted to bite me. You wanted me.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes opened, watching Dean take over, riding his cock at his own speed. “I do,” Castiel said, his breath catching at the sight of Dean working himself on him. “More than anything.”  
  
Dean moaned, planting his palm on Castiel’s chest to push from.  
  
“We don’t ever have to bond,” Castiel said softly, his lids drooping in lust. “I know you are mine by the look in your eyes and the words that you don’t say out loud.” He took Dean’s cock into his hand, letting him fuck into his fist with every lift. “You’re perfect.”  
  
Dean, eyes closed and face already showing tells of nearing a climax with a scowl of concentration, his lip caught tight in his teeth, and sweat glistened from his shoulders. He couldn’t argue, but his brow furrowed as he concentrated on his chase.  
  
“So perfect,” Castiel babbled on as Dean began bouncing harder.   
  
Dean’s jaw dropped and his eyes opened as he bounced faster. Their eyes locked. Castiel had to fight to not take hold of him and finish this blissful ride. As he had pinned Dean’s hands down earlier, he kept his planted in submission. He did not push his emotions or use his grace. This was just the two of them, their bodies, and Dean in control.  
  
Dean huffed with every downward slam. “Dean,” Castiel said urgently, feeling his own climax approaching.  
  
“You just wait,” Dean groaned, “and keep strokin’ my dick.”  
  
Castiel squeezed just a bit harder, wishing he could wrap his mouth around the cock sliding in and out of his hand. Dean’s thigh muscles trembled and Castiel knew he was about to come. He let out a guttural, petulant whine and Dean came, crashing hard onto him, so immobilized that he struggled to pump and ride out his release. Castiel stroked him through several more waves of orgasm before lifting Dean, thrusting himself up into him until he cried out and came.   
  
Dean collapsed onto his chest, his whole body trembling with effort. “Ha,” Dean panted into his neck. “No sprite magic on that one. Just good, old-fashioned sex.”  
  
Castiel grinned, kissing his cheek. “You are amazing.”  
  
Castiel shifted until he was out of Dean, just holding him astride his lap. His wings wrapped around them and he wished they could just stay here forever. As Dean nuzzled into his neck, he could not help but smile. He grinned harder as he felt Dean stroke his feathers.   
  
“I should get that medicine Charlie brought,” Dean muttered, his jaw never leaving Castiel’s shoulder.  
  
“Did you know,” Castiel smiled, sliding his hand down Dean’s back, “that there are only three nephilim who have wings?”  
  
Dean tilted his head, his fingers freezing mid-stroke. “Really?”  
  
“Michael, Gabriel, and now me.”  
  
Dean sat up, staring down at him curiously. “Guess that’s why almost nobody knows about the truth behind the wards. I used to think you all had wings.”  
  
“No. I dreamed about having wings. I wanted them. Back then, I hoped to simply fly around the countryside bringing the bees to further and further outreaches.” He shook his head. His goals for himself had been so simple compared to what he was about to embark upon. “I used to read anything I could find on wings when I was at The Stacks.” He met Dean’s eyes. “Only an angel’s bonded mate was privileged to touch their mate’s wings. They are something very special, created only for angels, never for humans. It is one of the things that makes us so different and cherished as such. Michael has a mate. Gabriel...I don’t know, he must care for his own wings. And he has cared for mine, but that was different.”  
  
Dean nodded slowly. “You were dying.”  
  
Castiel nodded. Dean was more right than he knew. He was already walking a mysterious path, his life and its worry slipping away from him. Every step he took felt better and better. Then he was suddenly and abruptly aware of Gabriel, and the excruciating pain his wing was in, as it burned with demon bile.   
  
“What I was trying to tell you is,” he took Dean’s hand, kissing it, “it is one of the privileges only mates share. It is very special and sacred. And I would like to share that with you.”  
  
Dean huffed. “Like if anyone else is EVER touching your wings. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.”  
  
Castiel’s shock had to be evident. His smile pleased Dean as well. Yes, wing care was private, special, and if ever encroached on by another, it led to bloody fights or even death. Dean seemed to agree with their history.  
  
“I’ll give Gabe a pass,” Dean said tightly. “He was saving your life. Did he touch them before that?”  
  
“The day I got them. We even touched wings, which can be extremely intimate, but he had never had the chance to be with someone willing to do more than hold theirs at attention to intimidate. That is all Michael does with his. I believe it shocked us both,” Castiel chuckled at the memory. “But that was the end of it. He taught me how to fly.”  
  
Dean leaned forward, kissing him. “Like I said, Gabe gets a pass, but he better not try anything else.” Dean’s head tipped up, looking at the wings surrounding them now. A smile of satisfaction eased onto his face. He reached up, gripping the top ridge of each wing firm but gentle. The sigils on his forearm stood out drawing Castiel’s hand to put his thumb over the sigil. Dean lowered his chin, meeting his gaze.   
  
“Always figured I’d marry someday. Have a family or something.”  
  
“A boot shop,” Castiel grinned, remembering the conversation Dean had while he was just the stray cat in their group.  
  
Dean grinned, his arms lowered to lay on his thighs, hands loose and relaxed. “How’d you know that? I never talked about that to anyone!”  
  
“I wasn’t anyone. I was just Thursday.”  
  
Dean blushed a little, smiling shyly. “Oh…yeah. Guess I did say that.”  
  
Castiel cleaned them. His wings relaxed, gathering and laying behind them, waiting as Dean continued to look contemplative, working up to saying something.  
  
“Guess I never even knew you could belong to someone like...like I belong to you.” His green eyes lifted to his.  
  
Castiel took his hand, kissing the sigil that matched his own. “I belong to you just as much. Don’t forget that. No matter how anyone else talks about our relationship.”   
  
Dean nodded. “Better send me back for that medicine.”   
  
Castiel knew their morning had to come to an end. And he had no idea what this day would bring. He pulled them through the plane, his wings an inky black mass behind him.  
  
Dean got up, walking across the room to get the container of cream. Castiel could watch him walk naked forever. His long, bowed legs, thick with muscles, his trim backside, and bruises from where he’d gripped him so tight as they made passionate love. His hair mussed, yet perfect. As he turned back to him, he caught sight of the bruise and teeth marks left on his neck from where he had almost bonded with him. If it had not been for the sour tasting reminder of the demon deal attached to his soul, he might have gone through with it. Contract or not, he was glad he had waited.  
  
Castiel stood, wrapping an arm around Dean, pulling him through to their plane. Dean went to work quickly, tending to the ravaged spot on his right wing with gentle hands. The cream tingled, making his wings bristle, which made Dean look over them with worry. Finished tending to the wound, he pet a hand through the wing, coming back to kiss him soundly.  
  
Dean was right. The feeling of belonging to someone was wonderful in so many ways.  
  
Dean stood tall, looking down on him in their difference of only a few inches. “Time to go.”  
  
Castiel nodded, pushing them both through, to the real world, his wings staying behind. He glanced at the window. They had taken longer than they should have to pleasure each other. Knowing he needed to get on the road, he snapped his fingers, dressing them both.  
  
Dean gasped, stepping back. “Dude! Warn a guy!” He laughed as he tugged his shirt into place.  
  
“My apologies,” Castiel grinned, snapping his fingers again. The room shuffled into a perfect state of clean readiness, their few items sitting neatly on a side table.  
  
Dean walked over to it, picking up his dagger, belt, and small bag he kept on his belt. As he put them on, Castiel gathered his own small bag, putting the container of cream into it.  
  
“When will I see you?” Dean asked, eyeing the jar as it slipped into the bag.  
  
“Three days.” He tied the bag shut, slinging it over his shoulder.   
  
“Well, you should put that cream on every day.”  
  
Castiel turned to him, understanding what Dean was getting at. It made him grin. “I will be sure to do that, though it won’t feel nearly as good as when you did it.”  
  
Dean smirked, tucking his dagger into his belt. “Damn right it won’t.”  
  
Castiel took the two steps to pull Dean into a chaste kiss. “I love you.”  
  
“Love you,” Dean whispered back, kissing him again.  
  
As they passed through the outer chamber, Castiel snapped again, cleaning the room, and putting anything out of place back precisely where it belonged. At least he could be a courteous guest.  
  
  
***********************************************  
  
  
Dean took Wisconsin’s reins as he mounted Impala.   
  
Cas was gone.  
  
The sprite had been all but silent the entire ride to the unmarked place along Lebanon Road where he could fly home. Dean hoped with every fiber of his being that he and Cas would see each other in three days. That their people would rally, and this war would be short-lived.  
  
He walked back to the bunker, for the first time in his life feeling like half of him was missing. He wouldn’t let Cas heal the bruise on his neck. He wanted it. The gnawing reminder of what he could have someday, if they could get rid of the damn contract he wore like a weighted blanket.  
  
As he neared the courtyard to the bunker, he tucked his burdens away like Cas hid his wings.   
  
He had an army to raise.  
  
He had a war to win.  
  



	21. Haven and Highlands of Lawrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has an important decision to make. 
> 
> Dean has an important point to make.
> 
> Get your pitchforks sharpened and your shoes ready to throw!

Chapter 21: Haven and Highlands of Lawrence  
  
  
  
Castiel had not taken a flight as long as this on his own before. As he pictured Gabriel’s library in his mind, the large onyx table and several stories of books, he had to summon the absolute assurance that he was not only capable, but the destination was absolute. He took one last look at Dean, waiting on the side of the road with the horses, provoking a bit of a grin from him.  
  
Dean gave him a firm nod.  
  
He sighed, not wanting to leave him. He pictured the library again, summoned his wings and flew.  
  
He appeared, whole and just as quickly as if he had flown across Lebanon Road, to the fine smooth surfaces and brightly lit library in Gabriel’s palace.  
  
Samandriel, reading a book at the onyx table, startled with a gasp as he jumped to his feet. “Castiel!”  
  
Castiel let his wings go, taking a deep breath.  
  
“Your Highness! You’re here! Gabriel said you would come, but I feared...” Samandriel took a breath, glancing around the otherwise empty library. “We feared you were gone!”  
  
Castiel gave his younger half-brother and abettor a reassuring grin. “I am well, Samandriel. My apologies for my long absence.”  
  
His blue eyes were still wide as he snatched the book from the table, piling it atop a small stack of books before gathering all of them to his chest. Samandriel scurried over to him. “We’re supposed to meet Gabriel, Mage of Monday at The Stacks.”  
  
Castiel glanced around the library again. “Now?”  
  
“Now!” Samandriel said urgently. “Can you fly us there?”  
  
“Yes.” Castiel pictured the lobby in the high tower of the capital building in Tree of Knowledge where the entire floor was a map of the world, smooth and glossy with hewn shades of grays, whites, and blacks.  
  
He put his hand on Samandriel’s shoulder and took them. As they landed neatly on the glossy continent of Lawrence, Samandriel gasped, staring up at him. “Gabriel said you could fly. I just...never dreamed it would be so...quick.” He bowed his head, always so proper.   
  
Castiel grinned down at his sibling. They shared the same blue eyes as their father, Kassiel. Had much the same temperament with unending curiosity and patience.  
  
“It is good to see you, Samandriel.”  
  
His eyes lifted to Castiel’s in awe. “I’ve missed you terribly, Castiel.” A door above them opened, a woman with a tight smile, wearing the jade robe of an abettor leaned over a high railing of the massive spiral staircase, spotting them easily in the otherwise empty room.  
  
“Is she waiting for us?” Castiel asked, leaning closer to his brother.  
  
“She is. She’s one of Gabriel’s abettors.”  
  
Castiel nodded, making the woman gasp and grip the railing tight when he and Samandriel appeared next to her without warning.  
  
“Your Highness!” She bowed, trying not to seem as startled as she was. “Gabriel, Mage of Monday, Angel’s Son waits for you.”  
  
Castiel turned, heading into one of the upper offices of the grand library. He stopped just inside the room, finding a most unexpected sight. Gabriel, standing at a wide table, surrounded by stacks of books and open maps. Castiel turned again as he heard the door behind him lock with the abettor and Samandriel a step behind him.  
  
Gabriel’s head snapped up. “Castiel!”  
  
Castiel relaxed markedly, seeing his friend safe. He crossed the room quickly, hugging him. Gabriel, not used to him being so familiar, chuckled, hugging him back. “I’m glad you are well.”  
  
“Me too.” As they stepped apart, Gabriel smirked at the shocked looks on Samandriel and the other abettor’s faces. “Give him a break, he’s been hanging around humans for a few months. He’s all humanized now.”  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes, stepping back, making Samandriel grin wide.  
  
Gabriel turned back to the table, tugging Castiel with him. “We’re safe in this room. It’s warded from any grace power. I didn’t even know it existed until Metatron found me hiding in a back-office downstairs and offered a private room to work in.”  
  
“Metatron knows?” Castiel asked, not sure he trusted him.  
  
“Metatron is a nosy rule follower. I told him to find me a better office. Nobody questions a mage, Cassie.”  
  
“Oh.” He half laughed. “My time with humans has taught me quite the opposite. They question everything.”  
  
Gabriel chuckled. “Well, Raphael could come busting in at any time, but at least I’m safe for now. I have Slepnir distracting the nosy mole to find a cure for crop blight we supposedly have.”  
  
Castiel nodded, impressed at Gabriel’s cunning. He should know the Trickster would be good at this sort of thing. “What is it you are looking for?”  
  
“Maps. Laws on wards, and I reread the Treaty of the People.”  
  
Castiel glanced at the table, covered in maps of Haven and Purgatory. He slid the pack off his shoulder. “Sam found me before I left. He sent these for you.” He put the detailed maps of Freeland and Lawrence on top of the others.  
  
“Aha! He is a tall drink of deliciousness, isn’t he?” Gabriel grinned, smoothing his hand over the map.  
  
Castiel glanced at him in surprise. “My love for humanity is contagious, it seems.”  
  
Gabriel shrugged, eyes on the map. “He’s the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Castiel frowned at Gabriel’s estimate. “He is kind. And he took good care of me when I was...unable to do so myself.”  
  
Gabriel smirked up at him. “He’s fucking gorgeous. So’s Dean don’t get me wrong. But when you had the choice of the two, I find it hard to believe you picked the mouthy one with a contract on his soul.”  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Hey, you do you. I’ll take tall, dark, and broody.”  
  
“They are not up for the taking. What happened with Dean was more than just -”  
  
Gabriel turned back to the maps. “Chill. Guess you have plenty of your Thursday pensiveness left. Thought Dean mighta worked that out of you all together.”  
  
Gabe glanced up, catching his steely, unamused glare.  
  
“Apparently not,” Gabriel said under his breath, going to the maps again. “So, here’s where we flew in.”  
  
Castiel studied the line. Lebanon Road. “Correct.”  
  
“We need to find a place to hold a summit. Lebanon is the capital, so there should be a place to hold all of them. And the train runs through there.”  
  
“They have railroads?” Samandriel asked, lost in his curiosity as he craned to see the map.  
  
“They do,” Castiel grinned. “Cities, government, laws. They are quite a bit more advanced than we were ever led to believe.”  
  
“I’m assuming the demons will come to Freeland here.” He pointed at the port in Freeland. “If they aren’t there already.”  
  
They spent the entire day memorizing maps, committing towns and roads to memory. Gabriel reviewed laws and the treaty again. Samandriel studied the map with Castiel, asking him about all the places he had been. It was amazing to realize just how much of the world he had seen in his time away.  
  
In the wee hours of the morning, they left the library, hiding their maps and evidence of what they were doing in the bags they carried.  
  
Before departing for the night, Castiel paused. “Where does my legion think I have been all this time?”  
  
Gabriel sat on the corner of the table. “Not gonna lie, Cassie. There were strong rumors that you died.”  
  
“Started by whom?” Castiel asked, pinning Gabriel with a stare.  
  
“Okay, me, but what was the alternative? I sent you to Lawrence for something that should have taken a couple hours and you fucking disappeared. It was better they thought you dead than a traitor, living among humans, avoiding his duties.”  
  
“Gabriel. You sent me there!”  
  
“I know!” He held his hands up in defense. “I told you I couldn’t find you. Who would’ve ever thought you were traipsing across Lawrence, Freeland, and Purgatory as a cat?”  
  
The pair stared at each other.  
  
“You were a cat?” Samandriel asked in confusion.  
  
Castiel rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He ignored Samandriel’s look of confusion, turning back to Gabriel. “And now that I’m back? Who has taken my place?”  
  
Gabriel nodded his head toward Samandriel, who glanced away nervously. “I will redact my position immediately, Your Highness.”  
  
Castiel looked back at Gabriel, jaw tight.  
  
“He’s the youngest mage to be in the seven in over a hundred years,” Gabriel offered.   
  
Castiel stared. What was he supposed to do now?  
  
“What? No one stripped your power. Your grace is still the strongest next to mine. And now he can handle the head responsibilities while you handle the war.”  
  
Something about that was not enough. He had learned to love his position of power. He had planned to use it to direct his legion. Samandriel was a good, kind nephilim. And yes, his powers were strong. But he had none of the firm clout a leader needed.  
  
“No?” Gabriel frowned, looking worried. “The kid supports all of this, ya know. I had to tell him everything last night. He’s your best asset right now.”  
  
“I know my people,” Castiel argued. “I’m going to have to take over the position as Mage of Thursday. It is mine by right.”  
  
Samandriel immediately knelt. “Anything you say. I am here to assist you however I may.”  
  
Castiel sighed at the kneeling. He pulled his brother to his feet. “You would make an amazing mage, Samandriel. But I don’t think the people will follow you.”  
  
Samandriel nodded, his eyes lowering solemnly. Castiel might as well have stabbed him through the heart, killing his spirit. He hated the look of defeat and the sag of his shoulders. Then it occurred to him that when he next saw Crowley, he might lose rights to his own soul. There was no way a demon could have a tether to one of the seven. He gave Samandriel a considering look.   
  
“Do you think the legion would follow you?”  
  
Samandriel met his eyes. “Yes. But Castiel, I would never go against you. Even when we were young, I knew you were the most powerful nephilim in ages. And more than that, you were my best friend. My ally.”  
  
Castiel thought back to the time when they were children. Samandriel was small. The youngest and even so, small for his age. To his knowledge, there had been few nephilim born since him. Some of the others picked on him until Castiel fought several of them. But that was when they were both children. Samandriel had a kind power to him, but power, nonetheless.  
  
“What should we do?” He asked the question, knowing it would surprise his brother.  
  
His eyes did widen at the initial realization that Castiel was asking him what to do. Not Gabriel.  
  
He blinked, stepping back as he thought. Castiel waited patiently, aware that Gabriel had begun messing with the lock on one of the windows in the office, impatiently waiting.  
  
“Gabriel said you are in love with a human.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “I am.”  
  
“A marked human,” Gabriel piped in.  
  
“Will you be bringing this person here?” Samandriel went on.  
  
Castiel hesitated. “I...I don’t know.”  
  
“It seems to me, Castiel, that you have the grace, but you do not have a drive to rule. Your happiest times were always in the countryside. And I know you care deeply for not just our legion and our people, but all peoples. I think you would make a better garrison leader than a mage. Your Highness.”  
  
“I’m not sure I am ready to give up my station,” Castiel admitted.  
  
“I leave it up to you,” Samandriel bowed. “You, I trust above all others.”  
  
Castiel nodded. He wished he could speak with Dean. But that thought had to stay buried for now.  
  
“Castiel,” Samandriel said quietly, “while I do willingly defer to your say on the matter of which of us should be Mage of Thursday, I assure you that I am quite willing...and, in fact, have been quite able to command and delegate in your absence. When the position was granted to me, I threw my heart and soul into it. If anyone else were challenging me for Mage, I would strike them down.”

Castiel noted the heat in Samandriel’s blue eyes. Perhaps he had more clout than Castiel had ever suspected. Perhaps the position fit his brother better than it did himself. Torn with these new thoughts, he felt even less close to having an answer. “I would like the night to think about what to do. You have always impressed me, Samandriel, with your grace and kindness. But I see there is more to consider.”

Samandriel nodded with a small grin. “Thank you, Castiel.”

“Well, I’m shocked we didn’t come to a decision,” Gabriel said sarcastically. He grabbed his bag from the table. “Come on. If we don’t leave now, we’ll never get any sleep. We have a lot of shit to do tomorrow. Sleep on it. Make up your minds by the time we are scheduled to speak with our legions.”  
  
“When is that?” Castiel asked.  
  
“In six hours,” Samandriel said dryly.  
  
  
  
*********************************************************  
  
  
The Highlands, the mountainous regions in central Lawrence, were home to seven towns. All seven had brought their men who volunteered to fight. The hall of the most central town was full to bursting with men, women, and witches. They were boisterous and rowdy, edgy from the sudden threat of war.  
  
Dean paced behind the dais, Sam not looking much better in his seat, one leg jittering nervously, thumb nail chewed back so far it was impossible to tear more from it.  
  
Dean stopped when the final sheriff arrived. He was a mild-mannered guy that had come to Lebanon several times on business. He strode up to Dean, grinning as his men filed into the hall, taking up places to lean against the wall.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
“Cesar. It’s good to see you.” Dean shook hands with him since they did not share any sigils.  
  
“Good to see you,” Cesar said, glancing over the crowd. “So, this is for real?”  
  
“Fraid so,” Dean said darkly as Cesar stepped aside to shake hands with Sam. “Hope we can count on you to back us up.”  
  
Cesar shrugged, stepping aside so he and Sam could greet his husband, Jesse. “Doesn’t look like we have much choice, if what I heard is true.”  
  
Dean nodded gravely. “Let’s get started.”  
  
The two took the last two seats at the head table as one of the local witches banged a gavel. “Order!” He yelled, the room quieting quickly.  
  
Dean cleared his throat, letting the last of the chatter abate. “Evening. We called you here tonight to tell you the rumors you are hearing are true. War is coming.”  
  
The men seasoned enough, did not let that stir them too much.  
  
“John Winchester was captured by demons and taken to Purgatory. My brother and I put together a group to rescue him. We did get him back. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Demons are organizing. Putting together armies that are marching toward Freeland.”  
  
“Freeland is under attack,” rang a voice from the back, making everyone turn.  
  
Dean looked back to the main door, shocked at who stood there.   
  
Crowley.  
  
His skin prickled at the very presence of the man. As he neared the dais, studying the crowd with an unreadable expression, Dean had to swallow back the bile in his throat.  
  
Sam stood, protectively blocking Dean from him.  
  
The crowd looked from the unknown intruder to Dean until the two stood side by side, Sam awkwardly between them, facing Crowley.  
  
The demon looked up to Sam’s tight jaw and narrowed eyes with a grin. “Moose. Good to see you. Have a seat. I’m only here to talk.”  
  
Sam looked back at Dean, who nodded. Sam took his seat, one hand on his sword.  
  
Crowley met Dean’s eyes, his expression losing its levity. “Tracked you down, since I know where all my...contracts are,” he said quietly enough that only Dean could hear. He turned to the crowd. “I’m Crowley. Some of you have met me. I run the port town of Needham and control what comes in and out of Lawrence. I’m here to tell you all that Freeland is already under attack, and their towns are collapsing rapidly.”  
  
“How do you know this?” A man shouted.  
  
“I know everything about what comes and goes,” Crowley bit back. “Nothing is coming. I went to see for myself and the country is in rubble.”  
  
“Is it demons?” Another man shouted.  
  
“It is,” Dean assured, not wanting to lose control of this crowd to Crowley.  
  
“It’s more than just demons,” Crowley clarified, pausing for effect, turning to Dean.  
  
Dean cleared his throat again. “The demons have been organized and given some weapons by a sprite.”  
  
There was a pregnant pause before one man laughed.  
  
“It’s true,” Crowley swore loudly, zero humor in his entire demeanor. “They have werewolves.”  
  
“And hellhounds,” Dean added, getting a shocked look from Crowley. “We need to stand up together to defeat them.”  
  
Murmuring began. Dean bit his lip, wishing he could prove to them just how dire their circumstances were.  
  
“Sprites!?” A man yelled. “You’ve been reading too many bedtime stories.” A raucous of voices filled the room.  
  
Sam stood up beside him. “Listen up!” He shouted, quieting the group again. “We didn’t bring you here, drag you out of your homes, interrupt your work, or take you from your fields for a bedtime story. There is a sprite named Michael, working with the demons and Leviathan to take us down.”  
  
Dean jumped on his brother’s train of thought. “These demons think we’re weak. They don’t care about our lands, our crops, or our laws. They think they can march down here and take our bodies for suits! They don’t care if we’re dead, dying, starving, or living! They can take over a body and you, your loved ones, your neighbors, will be trapped while a demon does whatever the hell it wants with your body!”  
  
People were nodding, becoming agitated in their seats.  
  
“Freeland is being destroyed,” Crowley added, loud and just as fired up as Dean. “They are marching through town after town, destroying, burning, raping, pillaging, and taking bodies as they go!”  
  
The sheriffs along the head table were becoming as agitated as their groups they had brought with them.  
  
“Dean!” Cesar called, “what do we do? How do we stop them?”  
  
“We get smart,” Dean hit back. “We all, I mean your wives, husbands, children, babies, your old-folk, EVERYONE gets anti-possession tattoos. We carve devil’s traps into every crossroad, bridge, door, and window in Lawrence!”  
  
The crowd cheered, yelling about getting it done.  
  
“And we stop them from taking what is ours!” Dean pounded the table with his fist for emphasis. “The Treaty of the Peoples says they STAY in Purgatory! Then they go back!”  
  
“Go back! We’ll drive them back!” Came shouts from the crowd.  
  
Dean fired up now, and on a roll. “For everybody in here, you go home and get ten more! You bring every able-bodied fighter back here by the end of the week AND THEN WE KICK THEIR ASSES BACK TO PURGATORY!”  
  
Everyone was on their feet shouting now. The room thundered with fists beating on tables and shouts echoing around the room. Dean clapped Sam on the back. People were ready to take matters by the horns and deal with it.  
  
The crowd quieted again as another man stood in the back. “You said a sprite started this. So, how do we fight them? You can’t even kill a sprite, can ya?”  
  
Dean waited until the room was quiet again. “One sprite stands against us. But two stand with us. Gabriel and Castiel, have legions of sprites behind them, and they’re coming to help us. Gabriel has sworn to put his brother down. To correct the treaty that has divided our people for years. They are both powerful and angry at their brother betraying all of us.”  
  
Heads were nodding. Some people looked suspicious, but others looked rejuvenated with the knowledge.  
  
“I ain’t ever seen a sprite,” one of the sheriffs scoffed, looking entirely unconvinced.  
  
“Then join us,” Sam said. He turned to the crowd at large. “Come see something your grandchildren and their grandchildren will want to hear about. Come with us and witness the power and magic these sprites demonstrate on the battlefield!”  
  
Cheering erupted as more table-pounding bounced off the walls in a deafening thunder.  
  
  
  
*******************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel slept very little. He tossed and turned in the familiar comfort of the nephilim-style mattress. He kept waking in a panic that he would be a cat, and no one would know who he was. But that had not happened. Not for several nights now.  
  
He had slipped unnoticed into his palace, now Samandriel’s, and was reluctant to leave the quarters attached to Samandriel’s suite. The quarters, intended for mates, had an inner door to the mage’s apartment. For now, it provided him privacy before he revealed himself as being back and indeed alive.  
  
He stood at the window that overlooked one of the main roads in Knowledge, watching as the city awoke. Nephilim walked along the cobblestone streets, some nodding acknowledgement to each other. The streets were much finer than any he had seen in Lawrence, let alone Purgatory or Freeland. But they did not make him as happy. They no longer felt like home.  
  
A soft rap sounded on the door to his room. “Come in,” he called, steeling himself for the conversation he needed to have this morning as Samandriel slipped inside, closing the door.  
  
“Good morning,” Castiel said, bowing his head. The gesture was enough to make Samandriel falter his step.  
  
“Good morning,” he said simply, letting any titles go unsaid.  
  
Samandriel recovered his gait, striding to a white, marble table in the center of the room. “I thought about our predicament all night. Castiel, I truly feel that I am better suited for this position than you were.” He held up a nervous hand, going on quickly. “Not that I am as blessed with grace as you are, but I do have a love for our legion and what becomes of it. I want to move the entire legion to Thrones. We must preserve our loyalty to what is right. By moving there, we stand beside Legion of Monday in solidarity. Gabriel will need the support in the days that follow the war.” His stern demeanor softened. “I can see that your heart lies elsewhere. It is noble. And you are by far a stronger power than I am...but my heart is with our people...and...”  
  
“And mine is not,” Castiel admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. “I believe you are correct in your summation of me. And with the legion moving. Gabriel will most surely need your support.”  
  
Samandriel deflated with the sad truth spoken.  
  
The shocking crux of it all settled over the two men heavily.  
  
“I, too, have thought about our situation all night. At first I thought you incapable of handling such a station. However, I was thinking of the Samandriel that ran through the vineyards with me. The boy that so easily did anything I asked of him. But that is not the man before me now. You have come into your own, brother. I was wrong to think that you could not take command. You already have.” They exchanged proud grins. Castiel had indeed thought long and hard about Samandriel’s abilities. By sunrise, Castiel had come to terms with the fact that Samandriel was already leading Thursday. His only soft spot was for him. The fact that he would give the station back to only him had made him think twice about some of his assumptions. Oddly enough, it had been the walk from the Stacks to the palace that had really made him reconsider. Samandriel’s abettors were respectful, quick, and seemed eager to please him in all they did, from opening doors to bringing him information. The staff and the people they passed in the streets already had claimed him as their new Mage. Castiel had only to accept this change and it would be complete. He grinned at the look of hope in his brother’s eyes. Castiel saw not only the boy by his side so many years ago, but the man he was today. It made him proud. And if he wanted to take the station back, he should want it for more than just power. He should want it for the things Samandriel had spoken of. The people.

“Of all my brothers, sisters, and friends...you are the dearest to me,” Samandriel said quietly. “I do not wish to take as much as a kernel of corn from you. Part of me feels as though I am robbing you. Throwing you from your throne.”  
  
Castiel came around the table, putting a hand on Samandriel’s shoulder. “It is impossible to steal what I have laid down. The Mage of Thursday should be you, Samandriel. I give it to you freely, because I think you will do a better job with our people than I would.”  
  
Samandriel’s eyes glistened with tears. “I would never have thought that possible before you left.”  
  
Castiel let his hand drop back to his side. “I would. My heart was always wandering. Searching for something beyond our borders. I never would have dreamed I would have found somewhere I belonged more than here, but it is true. Thursday deserves you, Samandriel. They deserve a kind leader who thinks of his people first. It is the right thing to do.”  
  
They exchanged sorrowful smiles. “It does not feel that way.”  
  
“It will,” Castiel assured him. “As you take the mantle on your shoulders, you will understand just how much more it suits you than me.”  
  
Samandriel nodded, the look of uncertainty mustering into something more professional. “I have called a session at the capital building. Raphael demanded to know the news, but I told him he would find out with everyone else.” He gave Castiel a meek grin. “He becomes very testy when denied anything, but I told him and Uriel that they would be there and they would be told precisely when I meant to.”  
  
Castiel laughed. It was that moment that put his worries and doubts more to rest than ever before. This did feel right.  
  
  
************************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. Through the curtained doorway to the inner balcony overlooking the wide lobby to the floor below, the capital building was full of nephilim. He heard Samandriel announce he had returned and that he would not be Mage of Thursday. An outburst of men and women could be heard.  
  
His fingers nervously tugged at the sleeves of the tan coat Dean had given him. The reminder of the fabric that was not as fine as what nephilim wore, was a comfort. He summoned his wings, tipping his chin down in determination as he parted the curtains and stepped into the bright inner balcony of the capital building. Several hundred had gathered, their clamors echoing from the high domed ceiling above.  
  
On the balcony, Raphael and Uriel looked at him with out-right shock. Samandriel held an arm out for Castiel to join him at his side. Gabriel stood near the railing, watching all of them carefully.  
  
“Where have you been?” Uriel demanded, his voice rumbling like thunder.  
  
“You deceived us, Castiel!” Raphael declared, both men stepping forward menacingly, urging Gabriel to his feet from where he had been leaning.  
  
Rather than attempt to address them, or Samandriel’s abettors, once his own, who stood there in shock, he stepped up to the railing, looking over the angry and confused faces of the crowd below. “Brothers and sisters!” He shouted, a hush falling over the crowd finally. “I am very much alive. I went on an errand that took much, much longer than I intended it to take. But the errand was critical. And the risks I took were just.”  
  
Gabriel gave him a nod to keep going. They had agreed this would be their first proclamation of not only his return, but Michael’s transgressions.  
  
Castiel felt his wings spread, waiting for the crowd to settle again. “I was sent to Lawrence, where I traveled among humans through Freeland and Purgatory.”  
  
Uriel and Raphael stood in stunned silence.   
  
“What I have learned is that the human race and some monsters are under an organized attack from demons and Leviathans. I, myself, saw them taking humans and witches from ships just off the shore of Purgatory.”  
  
A rumble of discontent broke out among the crowd.  
  
“This is none of our concern,” Uriel boomed. “Your being there is a breach of treaty agreements, Castiel!”  
  
“Hold on,” Gabriel cut in, holding a hand up to intervene Uriel and Raphael’s advance toward Castiel. “Castiel did not breach the treaty first. It was one of our own who went to Purgatory and is helping the demons take power.”  
  
“How do you know this?” Raphael demanded.  
  
“I found out when a human told me he had seen Michael before. And no, I’m not telling you who told me. They are under my protection,” Gabriel said smartly.  
  
“This is preposterous!” Uriel barked, anger flaring in his dark eyes and a stiff set to his shoulders.  
  
“It is happening,” Castiel insisted. “And if it was one of us who began this upset of balance, it should be us to right it.”  
  
Raphael looked suspicious, sharing a look of irritation with Uriel as the crowd listened.  
  
“This is a private matter if it does, in fact, involve Michael,” Raphael hissed under his breath.  
  
Gabriel shook his head with a grin. In a loud voice, he turned back to the crowd as Raphael fumed. “Ladies and gents, I have nothing to hide. Neither do any of us. Michael is raising an army. He is using demons to clear the slate so he can take over Lawrence, Freeland, and other countries that we have no right to be meddling with. It is a breach of treaty agreement and an act of war.”  
  
Voices raised louder this time, the entire capital ringing with displeasure.  
  
“This is treason!” Uriel warned, stepping back. “Michael is our leader and you had best remember your station, Gabriel, Mage of Monday!”  
  
“Treason?” Gabriel snapped irritably, “This is an act of war! He is helping monsters to keep humans in farms for breeding human suits and FEEDING LEVIATHAN WITH THEM! THIS IS AN ATROCITY TO ALL PEOPLES!”  
  
“Gabriel,” Uriel warned low. “You’re overreacting.”  
  
Gabriel, red-faced and angry, stepped menacingly toward Uriel, his wings arching threateningly. “Get angry, brother. Otherwise, I’ll suspect you’re on board with this.” His voice dropped to a threatening chord. “Are you in support of genocide, Uriel?”  
  
“No,” Uriel answered hastily, glancing around as he stepped back, head bowing. “No, Your Highness.”  
  
Castiel studied Uriel and Raphael as Gabriel addressed the crowd again. “Michael has sent troops of demons after the very people who make up half of us. They need our help. They need us to stand up for them. They didn’t breach the treaty. We did. We did. One of our own most trusted brothers is trying to change the world again. And we aaaallll know how that worked last time. This needs stopped.”  
  
Uriel and Raphael watched the crowd, jaws tight in apprehension. The crowd, typical of most nephilim, were listening carefully, giving little away as far as whether they were on board or not.  
  
Castiel stepped up next to Gabriel, both their wings arching behind them menacingly. “Samandriel, what say you?”  
  
Samandriel looked down on the crowd, back straight and countenance firm. “The Legion of Thursday will fight. We stand beside you, Gabriel, Mage of Monday, Angel’s Son. We stand with you, Castiel, Thursday’s son.”  
  
A third of the nephilim took a knee, bowing their heads.  
  
Gabriel, Castiel, and Samandriel stared challengingly at Uriel and Raphael.  
  
Raphael glared back.  
  
Uriel glanced to the crowd. “Those that wish to aid the humans in this fight are given leave to do so.”  
  
“Agreed,” Raphael added begrudgingly.  
  
Castiel looked out to the crowd, his wings flaring again. His hope soared as half of Tuesdays and Wednesdays left standing, knelt in solidarity.  
  
“Report to the training yards,” Gabriel said crisply. “Those that choose not to fight, I have nothing for you.” The utter disgust and look of repulsion for those standing had plenty more dropping to a knee.  
  
The nephilim that remained standing were either too old to fight, frozen solid with fear of Gabriel, or out-right in ill-favor of becoming involved with humans. Those kneeling got to their feet, streaming out of the capital with purpose.  
  
Raphael stepped closer to them. “If you are wrong about Michael -”  
  
“I’m not wrong about Michael,” Gabriel said tersely. “Now, what about you two? Can I count on you to fight Michael?”  
  
Uriel shook his head, his brow furrowing thickly. “I cannot stand against one of the seven. I give my people leave to fight to support humans to fight the demons, but to go against Michael is another problem entirely.”  
  
“Michael is a bully,” Gabriel snapped. He schooled a calmer look onto his face, visibly restraining his impatience. “We have seen this before. Lucifer, Michael, they’re greedy for power. The originals were put down for it, so why should we tolerate it now? He needs stopped.”  
  
Uriel considered his words.  
  
“We need proof,” Raphael stated, Uriel nodding in agreement.  
  
“Fine,” Gabriel scoffed. “Here’s the deal. Samandriel stays here to train and convince everyone what we’re doing is essential to keeping humanity protected. Have them battle-ready in two days.”  
  
“Two days?” Samandriel gasped. “We need weeks!”  
  
“You have two days,” Gabriel insisted.  
  
Samandriel looked to Castiel for support, but Castiel had none to give. “Be ready in two days.”  
  
Samandriel clamped his jaw shut, swallowed, and firmed his shoulders. He nodded curtly.  
  
Gabriel pointed an angry finger toward the opening over the balcony. “I want every name of every nephilim between the ages of 30 to 100 that are standing down there right now.”  
  
Uriel nodded tightly, tipping his head toward one of his abettors, sending them to the railing to take attendance.  
  
“Uriel, Raphael, come with us.” Gabriel left the balcony swiftly, Castiel following him. Uriel and Raphael joined them, looking extremely apprehensive. Samandriel followed, taking the sweeping steps flanked by the abettors in their sweeping turquoise robes, making it an intimidating entrance for the slight man as he headed out of the building toward the training grounds. Castiel set his attention back on Gabriel, also impressively leading the three of them and all their attending abettors.  
  
“Castiel!”   
  
Running up the steps and joining Gabriel’s procession, Rachel and Anna joined him, shocked looks coloring their faces.  
  
Castiel stopped, hugging Anna.  
  
“Castiel! You’re alive!” Anna gasped, hugging him with only a slight startle at his previously much less physical behavior.  
  
“I am! Anna, it is so good to see you.”  
  
Stepping apart, she looked to Rachel, who reached a hand to lay it gently on his forearm, her look of relief betraying just how worried she had been. Castiel covered her hand with his, nodding at her.  
  
“We thought...” she didn’t continue, letting her confusion go unsaid, from protocol.  
  
“I was on a mission for Gabriel,” Castiel explained, walking with them to keep up with Gabriel.  
  
“It’s all true then? Did you see Michael with demons?” Anna asked in a hushed whisper.  
  
“I saw many things,” Castiel answered. “Purgatory is preparing for war. Freeland and Lawrence are wholly unprepared for what is coming.”  
  
“You were IN Purgatory?” Anna asked, awe-struck.  
  
“Indeed. I traveled with humans. And a witch. I have learned so much about the world in my travels.”  
  
“Are we going to fight for humans?” Anna asked.  
  
“We are.”  
  
“Are you to be re-installed as Mage of Thursday?” Rachel asked, still looking so concerned.  
  
“I don’t think so. Samandriel has risen to the occasion. I’ll be too busy fighting Michael to lead properly.”  
  
Both abettors exchanged a worried look.  
  
“I am shocked to hear a nephilim of your gentle nature speak so supportively of war,” Rachel admitted.  
  
“Do not mistake my passion for weakness, Rachel.”  
  
“And...you feel so passionately about humans that you would send our people to war?”  
  
He met her eyes, needing her to understand him unequivocally. “Yes, Rachel. OUR kind are attacking humans. I feel extremely passionate about it.”  
  
Rachel nodded, tucking her misgivings away.  
  
“Castiel,” Anna grinned, grasping his elbow as they filed into the capital’s high court room. Her pale face lit up, merriment dancing in her hazel eyes. “Did you fall in love on your travels?”  
  
Images of Dean sprang forcefully to Castiel’s mind. His mud-spattered face as he grinned at him after fighting monsters on the road, that grin of enjoying him as a brother-in-arms. His chaotic feelings jumbling and wanting so badly to accept the love they shared. His softer smile at night as they cuddled together.  
  
“I have,” Castiel admitted, a rush of warmth relaxing his shoulders even amid the gathering around him.  
  
Anna, having been long in love with her mate, a human, gave him a very understanding look. “I’m so happy for you. And I would be honored to fight at your side.”  
  
Castiel filled with a relief that had him hugging her again.   
  
She laughed as they parted. “You’ve changed.”  
  
“I have,” he agreed. “For the better.”  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
Castiel flew into the high court chamber in the capital building in Tree of Knowledge with Samandriel in tow. As their boots touched down on the fine white marble floor, they strode forward to join the rest of the seven gathering at the center of the round room. The chamber sat high in the capital building with a high domed ceiling of beautifully framed glass. The room was grand and luxurious with tall windows separated by massive pillars of white marble. Gabriel sat at the oval table with Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, and Barachiel. Benches circled around the table, rising in tiers where every abettor and anyone of importance chatted nervously, waiting for the meeting of the seven to begin. Minus Michael, of course.   
  
It had been half a day since Gabriel’s declaration of war to the nephilim. He had returned to Tree of Thrones briefly, bringing all his abettors and most trusted garrison leaders to Tree of Knowledge. Gabriel’s legion would be the last informed at large because of Michael’s legion being so entwined with them.  
  
Samandriel took the sixth seat at the table and Castiel moved to take a seat next to Anna and Rachel on the closest row of benches. Castiel knew he was not the only one slightly enamored with the change in Gabriel. He took absolute charge as if Michael had never been the one to always run meetings of the seven. They informed the two remaining nephilim, mages of Friday and Saturday, of what Michael had been doing. An air of nervous tension gripped the room. Not only were they quite suddenly at war, their enemy lay within their own land. The moment Michael found out Gabriel was rallying all the mages and their legions in adversity to him and in support of humans, their very lives would change. Michael was powerful. At this point, every man, woman, and child not in Legion of Sunday was now in danger. And Gabriel gave them no room for their own opinions on the matter.  
  
Samandriel was in full support. Uriel and Raphael seemed stuck with Gabriel’s word and he did not trust that they would not betray them the moment they left them unattended. Raguel and Barachiel seemed shocked and extremely hesitant to jump on board with massing their followers for war.  
  
Raguel, Mage of Friday, was a sandy-haired nephilim, with his long hair pulled back into a low ponytail. His brown eyes conveyed the sadness he felt at his brethren being in conflict. Fridays were by far the gentlest of the legions, known for their easy-going personalities. He had offered to meet with Michael to attempt talking things out, but Gabriel said no. There was no talking at this point. Raguel seemed very troubled by this, finding the accusations hard to believe. He argued that Michael was a good man and that he couldn’t be guilty of turning on all of them. This only deepened Castiel’s worry that the legion of Friday would be a weak defense, trying to make peace instead of protecting themselves.  
  
Barachiel, a small framed, thin man with crystal clear gray eyes and hair white as pure snow which stuck out in a disheveled flurry that made him look slightly crazed, found the entire ordeal none of his business and seemed sure they were all overreacting. His only comment to the discussions was to ask what he was supposed to do about it and when would the meeting be over. Saturdays cared little for politics, craving thrills of speed and partying. They were too self-absorbed to bother with most aspects of Haven in general. But by the time Gabriel painted a picture of how life would change with Michael in control of the world, he began to get more on board, wanting to rush into action of some sort.  
  
He hoped Dean fared as well, if not better, than they were with gathering their people.  
  
  
  
************************************  
  
  
  
Impala cantered in a smooth three-beat stride along the main road out of Buffalo, a big town he had not passed through in several years. The last time he was there, he and Benny had escorted a skinwalker to the train station, a buddy of theirs taking him on to Needham to put him aboard a ship and out of the country. The guy, Lucky, had seemed harmless, but the family rightfully freaked out learning a man (who had always appeared as a German Shepherd) had been living with them. It reminded him of the cat that had so stubbornly stuck with them. He’d fairly freaked out that Thursday had turned into a walking, talking man. And he had at least expected something of the sort to happen. He missed his companion. They had only been on the road for three days, but it seemed so much more laborious without Cas by his side.  
  
Or maybe it was the daunting task of building armies out of farmers.   
  
No. He missed Cas.  
  
As the entire entourage rounded the bend, leaving Buffalo behind them, Dean cleared the memories from his mind. They had rallied more troops. So far, their campaign was going well. And Crowley had left the highlands shortly after their first meeting ended the night before, and hopefully would not be back.  
  
Sam cantered alongside Dean, Challenger pinning his closest ear back, curling a lip up at Impala, who tipped her sleek, black muzzle in his direction. Sam tweaked his rein, warning his rude stud to leave Impala alone, or suffer his wrath.  
  
“We should meet up with Dad at the next crossroads,” Sam yelled over the thundering hooves.  
  
“Yep,” Dean answered.  
  
Eight sheriffs and their witches had joined their immediate return to Lebanon. The sheriffs and the deputies that remained behind were to congregate at specific markers across the country, setting up camps. The hope was that Gabriel and Cas would be able to fly in, pick up the entire army and move it to where it needed to go. Or at least call them to get on the road to head to whatever battle was nearest to them.  
  
The towns had all instructions to fortify themselves from demons with devil’s traps, anti-possession tattoos, and holy water. The one piece of information they were missing was how to teach people to defend themselves from sprites. Gabriel said they could be killed like any man, except they were stronger, faster, and some could heal themselves, making them difficult for the average man to kill. But it was better than nothing.   
  
They rode hard, joining their father in late afternoon to ride the last leg of the trip home together.  
  
John reined his big bay, Trucker, to be between Dean and Sam as they walked, letting the horses cool off.  
  
“How’d it go?” John asked, the three separating themselves from the rest of the pack a bit.  
  
“Good,” Dean nodded. “Everyone’s on board. The towns are preparing. I guess it helped that Samuel was talking about demons before we showed up. Not sure how many of them are coming just to see if we aren’t batshit crazy telling them sprites are going to be there.”  
  
John whistled low. “Kills me to give that man credit for anything, but you might be right. All the towns I went to are gearing up and plan on having troops at the marker points.”  
  
Sam nodded. “We had a surprise visit from Crowley.”  
  
John’s eyes went wide as his jaw tightened, glancing at Dean as if he were double-checking Dean was there and hadn’t been stolen. “Where? What the hell did he want?”  
  
“He said Freeland is being attacked. Demons are moving through the whole county, burning and killing as they go,” Sam said soberly.  
  
“Damn,” John huffed. “They didn’t stand a chance.”  
  
“Crowley wants troops at Needham. He thinks they’re going to land there and attack within days,” Dean added. “They might already be there.”  
  
John sucked his teeth over his lower lip. “We’ll see what the sprites think. I’m not sending any troops just yet. No sense having them burning energy on the road if they can get flown there in a couple seconds.”  
  
The brothers nodded agreement.  
  
“Dad...” Sam said nervously, “when did you start talking to sprites?”  
  
John laughed humorlessly. “First time I talked to one was when Gabriel showed up in Purgatory.” They rode quietly for several strides before John sighed and went on. “But Missouri had relayed several messages from him before that. She has family in Freeland and Purgatory. Other witches that have been talking about the demons suddenly organized enough to put armies together. Talk of farming humans. Then talk of a sprite working with Azazel. Guess that was Michael. But by the time they tossed Gabriel’s name into the mix, I thought the whole thing was bullshit. Then that guy showed up telling me he had a message directly to me from Gabriel himself and...” he glanced at Dean briefly, “well, I thought he was some pretentious witch trying to stir up support to get us mixed up in demon affairs.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked, frustration evident in his words. “We could have been better prepared.”  
  
John gave Sam a warning look. “The witches track everything. How was I to know this was real?”  
  
“They saved us during the plague,” Dean argued.  
  
It was his turn for a warning glare. Dean didn’t give a shit. Long gone were the days when he feared his father’s temper. They were all men of their own standing now. John seemed to pick up on the change, his eyes going back to the road ahead. “Because I had a spy to relay information about Purgatory and she swore the demon activity was nothing out of the usual. And that Haven was barren. That the sprites were gone. It was all lies.”  
  
“She?” Sam asked.  
  
“Bela,” Dean spat in disgust.  
  
John nodded. “Britland has ships that go to Purgatory. They trade with two coastal towns on the east shore.”  
  
“I didn’t know that!” Sam frowned.  
  
“No one ‘knows that’ but the Brits and some monsters in Purgatory.”  
  
“And you,” Dean frowned just as hard.  
  
John nodded. “And me. And Missouri. She was the one that found out. She told me the first night we were home that Bela and her party disappeared pretty quickly right after you boys left to hunt me down.”  
  
“So, she must have a better deal with some demon than with you,” Dean scoffed. “I knew she was no good. Dammit!”  
  
John nodded. “Pretty sure she arranged my kidnapping.”  
  
“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, Impala jumping to an antsy trot before settling into a walk again. “And you didn’t think we should know? Did Henriksen know? Anyone?!”  
  
John shook his head no. “I thought I was handling it.”  
  
Dean shook his head in frustration, Sam looking just as pissed.  
  
“I’m sorry boys,” John mustered. “For too long I have tried to fight everything alone. It was wrong.”  
  
“And look where it got us,” Sam bit angrily. “Dean’s soul is sold, and the whole fucking country is arming itself for war.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean warned, their dad pinning Sam with an angry look.  
  
“What?! Maybe if we had warning we coulda handled Crowley better!”  
  
“Maybe,” John snapped. “Maybe my son wouldn’t be sleeping with the enemy AND his soul contracted to a demon!”  
  
“Stop dragging me into this!” Dean yelled. “And Cas is not the enemy!”  
  
“He’s not human,” John snapped.  
  
Dean stared at him incredulously. “You have got to be kidding.”  
  
John stared ahead stubbornly. “He’s...a creature, Dean. A monster. Had I met him ten years ago, I would have hunted him. He’s one of the creatures responsible for our world being the way it is.”  
  
Dean scoffed at the same time Impala snorted.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “If it wasn’t for Cas, you’d still be in Purgatory with Azazel. And armies would still be headed our way.”  
  
John sighed heavily. “I appreciate the help they’ve given us. And we need them to win this war. But mark my words, when this war is over, those sprites, even the ones you two call friends, are no longer welcome here. They’ll be taken back to Haven.”  
  
Dean stared at his dad, a cold chill spreading through him. “Then I guess I’ll be leaving with them.”  
  
John gave him a hard stare. “You’ll be doing no such thing. No son of mine is living among sprites like a breeding whore.”  
  
Impala stopped abruptly, Trucker throwing his head with a neigh. Dean was off his horse, gripping his father by the shirt to rip him out of his saddle before anyone else could even blink. Impala and Trucker shied away from the pair, stepping apart as Dean shoved his dad, letting go of him. “How about you look me in the eye and say that again!”  
  
John stared at him hard, breathing heavy.   
  
Dean’s chest heaved as he shook with anger.  
  
“Hey!” Sam yelled, dismounting.  
  
“That’s all we are to them, Dean! Breeders! You should know -”  
  
Dean’s fist caught his father’s mouth, making him stagger back then plow forward to pummel Dean to the ground, fists flying from both men.  
  
There were shouts and running and hooves somewhere outside of the tiny world where Dean and his father battled.  
  
Hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him away as Cesar and another sheriff pulled John away. Sam clung to Dean, forcing him back further and further until all he saw was Sam’s face in front of his own.  
  
“Dean! Stop! Just stop.”  
  
Dean seethed angrily, tears burned and threatened to fall as he swerved around Sam. “You take it back, you bastard!” He yelled, watching as Henriksen got John to his feet. His mouth was bleeding, and one eye already looked swollen underneath as he tugged himself to the side, out of Henriksen’s hands.  
  
“He’s USING YOU, DEAN!” John yelled, swiping a hand over his mouth. “That’s what they do! And I won’t let you be used like a -”  
  
Dean growled, thrusting himself so hard Sam almost lost him. Dean cried out in anger, needing to beat the shit out of anyone talking about what he and Cas had as something foul. Sam regripped him from behind, bear-hugging him to the ground again. “Don’t listen to him, Dean!” Sam yelled. “He’s wrong. He’s scared and he’s ignorant.”  
  
Dean pulled and pulled until he knew he couldn’t get out of Sam’s hold. Finally, he slumped to the ground, his anger settling hard in his chest.  
  
John paced a short distance away, still angry. “You might not want to hear it, Dean, but it’s the truth. Sprites use humans to breed.” John paced closer, squatting down in front of Dean and Sam, staring at Dean with a mixture of pity and disgust. “We need them right now. But the second we don’t, the treaty goes back into effect and you’ll have the pick of towns to be sheriff of.”  
  
All Sam’s weight lifted, and Dean realized he was free to move. He pushed up onto his hands, getting to his knees. “You’re wrong!” Dean snarled.  
  
Both men rose to their full height, staring at each other.  
  
“Dad,” Sam said low, “this is our chance to mend our relations with sprites, not to sever them again.”  
  
John shook his head no. “You boys are off the mark. We are using them and using them hard. I intend to put them at the helm of every battle. HUMANS are surviving this war! We are getting our treaty fortified and our land safe FROM them. Not WITH them.” He took a menacing step closer with his jaw grit tight. “Today they are our allies. Not our friends. Whatever you think is happening -”  
  
“I’m marrying Cas.”  
  
Silence surrounded them.  
  
John looked struck. His tight jaw went slack. “You are NOT.”  
  
Dean shrugged, letting the anger drop like a weight to the ground. “I am.” He tugged his shirt sleeve up, showing his forearm, letting his father find the new sigils. “He’s my family. I love him.”  
  
John scoffed, his head tipping to the sky as if he could find proof there that Dean had lost his mind. Sam took Dean’s forearm in his hand, staring at the newest sigil.   
  
“Infinity,” he murmured, his soft, brown eyes meeting Dean’s. “That’s more than a friend.”  
  
Dean nodded. John stepped back, shaking his head.  
  
“And I have no plans on being a sheriff,” Dean said acidly.  
  
John shook his head in disgust. “No, you won’t be. Not when you’re a traitor to your own people.” He walked back to Trucker, wiping blood off his mouth as he mounted. Henriksen and Cesar stood there staring at Dean with unasked questions written all over their faces.  
  
“He’s wrong, Dean,” Sam assured him quietly. “He just doesn’t understand.” Sam’s eyes went pointedly from Cesar to Henriksen’s questioning look. “Gabriel and Castiel are our friends. Not just our allies. They didn’t even have to step into this fight, but they are. Dad is wrong.”  
  
Henriksen glanced at the others, not looking convinced either way. “Let’s go,” he said softly to the others gathered to watch.  
  
Cesar gave Dean a more thoughtful look, but only met Sam’s eyes with a small nod.

By the time Sam was in front of Dean’s face again, only Challenger and Impala stood waiting for them.  
  
“Dean!” Sam was saying, shaking him by the shoulders gently. “Don’t let him get in your head. You are NOT a traitor. He’s an angry, jaded jerk. Dean!”  
  
Dean snapped his jaw shut, his eyes finally meeting Sam’s. Something had broken inside him. Something fundamental that was already fractured.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked, worry crinkling his forehead in a complicated set of wrinkles that Dean knew like the back of his hand.  
  
“Fuck him,” Dean muttered.  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
“I am not a traitor,” Dean forced out, his hands clenching into fists, hurt to the core. “And I am nobody’s whore.”  
  
“I know,” Sam nodded, his lip trembling as his eyes got red with unshed tears. “Nobody else thinks that.”  
  
Dean shrugged, taking the hurt as his chin tipped up stubbornly. “I don’t give a fuck what they think.” Sam saw it for the lie it was, nodding agreement.  
  
“Dean,” Sam said shakily, “Cas is incredible. He’s damn lucky to have you. And you’re lucky to have him too. He’s...”  
  
Dean laughed harsh. “Yeah. He’s gorgeous. You can say it.”  
  
Sam’s eyes cleared, looking away as he broke into a grin. “I’m not saying he’s gorgeous.”  
  
The humor was easier than the weight of what happened a few minutes ago. He strapped on an even wider grin, shoving Sam’s shoulder as they walked back to the horses. “You can say it.”  
  
Sam laughed, shaking his head no as he batted Challenger’s nipping mouth away from his thigh. “I’m not saying it.”  
  
Dean mounted Impala with more flair than his broken heart supported. “Cas,” he impersonated Sam, batting his eyelashes, and tossing his pretend Sam hair over his shoulder. “I know you like my brother, but your wings make me feel all squishy inside!”  
  
Sam laughed harder, more real this time as he mounted Challenger, turning him onto the road. “His wings are pretty awesome.”  
  
“I knew it,” Dean smirked. He followed his brother, the rest of the group farther down the road already.   
  
Sam returned the smirk over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind checking out Gabriel’s wings a little closer.”  
  
A shocked laugh caught in his throat before ripping out in a real belly-laugh. “You, you aim high, Sammy! Straight for the top!” He laughed again as his brother blushed.  
  
“I’m not saying I’m gonna try to get with him. I’m just sayin’ he’s pretty fucking hot when he’s all take-charge.”  
  
Dean nodded, completely understanding the reference. “Oh, I get it.” And he did. There would have been a day when his father’s words would have rattled him to his core and even changed his mind. But Cas was more than a sprite. And certainly more than a tool. His gut hardened to stone.  
  
Traitor.  
  
His dad was the traitor.  
  
Impala tossed her head, dipping it low. Dean relaxed his legs, knowing she was telling him to relax. He did his best, sighing as he stared far down the road at the back of his father’s head.  
  
Sam glanced at him again, his humor simmering back into worry.   
  
Dean gave him a half-hearted smile. The truth of the matter was, he had learned long ago that if Sam was by his side, his father’s opinion mattered very little.  
  
Or so he told himself.  



	22. The Garden and Jefferson City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...
> 
> War has begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you are all doing well! The next handful of chapters are getting heavy. There will be a lot of violence and all those nasty tags will be coming into play soon. Just wanted to take a second and warn you.  
> Much love! Pb <3

Chapter 22: The Garden and Jefferson City  


Dean walked slowly from the barn to the back kitchen door. He had waited for hours at the meeting point along Lebanon Road. But no Cas.

Donna gave him a cheerful grin that quickly sobered at the look on his face.

Dean gave her a weak grin as he sat at the table, staying out of her way.

Donna ordered the last of the dinner dishes be taken out to start serving. Krissy and the other kitchen staff moved quickly, and within moments, the busy kitchen was empty. Donna sat a large bowl down in front of Dean and a stack of flat pans.

“You can help me roll cookies,” she winked, sitting across from him.

Eager to have his hands busy, Dean started rolling chunks of dough into balls, placing them on the pan just how Donna liked them.

“Doug and I split up.”

Dean, his mind endlessly, pointlessly, and torturously going over why Cas was late, froze. “What? When?”

“Shortly after you left.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t all aces,” she smiled as if to laugh it off, but it slid into a sad stare at her own hands as they rolled cookie after cookie.

“I’m sorry to hear that Donna.”

“I’m not.” She buoyed her smile, looking at him a bit more confidently. “He wasn’t worth my time, ya know?”

Dean grinned. He had told her as much several times when Doug was acting like a douche. “Well, good for you. You deserve a lot better.”

She grinned proudly. “Damn right, I do!”

Dean had never really liked the guy. And he loved Donna like family, always feeling like she could do better. He had suspected from the beginning that Doug hung around the bunker so much trying to get in with his dad and Henriksen, in hopes of being a sheriff some day. They exchanged a softer grin as they kept rolling cookies. 

“Cas never showed,” Dean said quietly.

Donna nodded. “Bet yer worried.”

Dean nodded, fighting back the hundred horrible worries that had been plaguing his mind since every minute ticked by after he didn’t show up at noon. 

“I put a little somethin’ aside, just for you.” Donna got up, going the the shelf above one of the ovens that kept food warm. Dean’s stomach twisted with anxiety. He wasn’t sure he could eat anything.

The kitchen door opened, noise from the busy dining room ebbing and quieting as the door swung shut and John walked in. His eyes landed on Dean and he headed straight for the table. “There you are.”

Dean’s gut churned even harder. He had not spoken to his dad since their fight. “Here I am.”

John stood there, glancing back at Donna before returning to him. “You gonna pout in here and ignore your family?”

Dean’s insides turned to iron. He sat back a bit, glaring at his father. “Do I look like I’m hiding?”

John sucked his lower lip in, letting slide out with a scrape of his teeth as he grinned. “Yeah. You do. Where’s the sprite?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Dean snapped, forcing an angry grin. “I know a few.”

“Castiel,” John practically spat. “The one you follow around like a puppy.”

Dean slid his chair back, rising to his feet, holding his father’s glare. “Cas...” He hated to say it, part of his anger deflating, “He isn’t here yet.”

John frowned. “Why?”

“Well, if he knew why, don’t ya think he woulda shared that with the group?” Donna snapped, sitting a plate on the table in front of Dean. 

Surprised, both men looked at Donna. She rolled her eyes. “Elected positions sometimes make people feel bigger than their britches. And these sprites are helping us, John.”

John’s look darkened as he watched the busy blonde move about the large kitchen again. She came back to the table, both men standing there silent. 

“What?” Donna said sternly. “Folks are talkin’. Some might think the sprites are scary, snatch you from yer bed in the night tricksters. But anyone with any sense knows that Castiel means business.”

John crossed his arms over his chest, listening, but glaring all the same.

Donna sat down with her own plate. She glanced up at the two of them. “I’m just sayin’...maybe the next elected sheriff will listen when a mage comes knockin’ instead of just bootin’ him out in the rain.” She tapped the fork to her chin, looking up toward the corner of the room. “Maybe it’s time Head Sheriff be someone a bit more...open minded.” She looked at John with pointed grin. “Ya know?”

“You coming after my job, Donna?” John grinned.

She nodded slowly, a grin spreading on her face. “Oh...there’s a thought now, isn’t there.”

John cleared his throat, his arms uncrossing as he slid his hands into his pockets. “I can’t imagine the people would vote for a leader that wants to roll over for sprites.”

Donna’s grin vanished. “I roll over for no man. No woman. And no sprite. Now that ya mention it, I don’t know anyone else that does either. What I do, Sheriff Winchester, is listen. And I’ve heard plenty.”

John wasn’t smiling anymore either.

“I think you would do well to listen more often. John.”

John gave her a measuring look, then slid his gaze to Dean. Feeling vindicated in some way, Dean gave him a flat look back. “Let me know when Castiel gets here.”

“Sure,” Dean said, watching his father walk out of the kitchen with none of the pomp he had entered it with.

Dean sat down, staring at Donna.

“I heard about what he said. Fighting with you in front of the other sheriffs. Sayin’ sprites are allies to be used, not our friends.” She shook her head. “Henriksen was NOT impressed. Not many were.”

A rush of warmth flooded Dean’s cheeks. He really had not given much thought to the fact that he and his dad had fought in front of the other sheriffs. His eyes dropped down to the plate she had sat in front of him.

“Pie!”

She grinned. “Well, someone had to make you smile again.”

Dean cut a huge chunk off with his fork, shoving the whole apple filled, cinnamony-goodness in his mouth. “If we got married,” he garbled around the huge bite, “I’d be fat.”

Donna laughed, eating another bite of her own slice. 

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Dean picking every crumb from his plate, he sat back with a grin. “Sheriff Hanscum has a damn nice ring to it.”

Donna blushed slightly. “Oh. You know.”

Dean leaned forward, leaning onto the table. “You got my vote.”

She waved him off.

“Next election is next year. You’d be a damn good sheriff, Donna.”

She grinned at him, her fork toying with the last bite of crust on her plate. “People are talking.”

“About the election?”

“No. About using sprites. Some people think like yer dad. That the treaty needs locked down so sprites go back where they came from when the war is over.”

“And?”

“And others think it’s about time we talked. Because apparently silence and separation isn’t working!”

“I agree,” Dean nodded. “And not just because of Cas.”

She nodded. “I’m just sayin’. People are talkin’. You’d make a real good sheriff, Dean.”

“Ugh. No. No way. Besides...” he fiddled with his fork...”I might end up moving to Haven.”

Donna’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Would ya now. Well...guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

Dean nodded. “Who knows. Shit. I don’t even know where he is right now. Why didn’t he show up? What if he couldn’t fly? What if Michael got him?” He blew a breath out, going back to rolling cookies. “He’s young, for a mage, Donna. He woulda come back if he could. Something’s wrong.”

She sat with him, rolling cookies until the dough was gone and they were sliding baked cookies onto platters to take out to the dining room.

Dean checked the barn. He checked the courtyard. Nothing. No Cas. When he came back inside, he spent several hours playing cards with Sam, Donna, Charlie, Jo, and Adam in the kitchen. 

***************************************************

Castiel had visited The Garden several times as a child. The land was wilder here, lush with deep forests rarely disturbed by nephilim. The roads were hard packed dirt and the homes were spread out from the epicenter of town. The Garden had been the original settlement of the angels and still bore landmarks of their creation. Massive trees with girths ten men holding hands couldn’t even encompass, bridges of pure gold, statues of angels at every crossroads. The houses here varied as much as the nephilim themselves. Some homes were wood, built into the trees and others were stone, tucked amongst trees, while others were simpler stone or marble, spaced apart along the roads. Some were simple, small, and blended in with nature, while others were sprawling oases. The most lavish building was crystal and silver, seeming to grow out of the ground. They were told it resembled the mansions in heaven and had been built by the angels. To Castiel, it felt entirely too opulent. Even the air inside of it had a chill of unwelcome. But they passed the spire of silver and crystal, heading instead for a side road out of town that wound into the thick forest. The road was covered by the canopy of trees with a hush to their steps. It led to a moss-covered stone complex that looked ancient. It seemed as if the ground were slowly swallowing the structure whole. It was tucked away amongst thick jungle growth and what lay inside was well protected. What all The Garden thought was a sacred meeting place of angels where several relics were stored, was where the Master of Wards protected the one-and-only-way wards could be lifted. It was meant as a fail-safe so nephilim did not become trapped in Haven. An escape in case they grew weak over time and were attacked by other countries. When the angels had created it, most all nephilim could fly. As generations went by, wings seemed to be the first of the wards nephilim were born with that became impossible to break. Now, with only three in all of Haven having the ability to use the secret warding system, it was obvious that Billie must be involved in Michael’s plans.  
  
The main entrance was unmanned and unlocked. The light of day only lit a few steps into the hall that greeted them. It was full of paintings of angels. Castiel found them more disturbing than historically interesting. The mightier the angel appeared, the more it boasted of their biggest flaw. The power they wielded. Their ultimate downfall and the thing still inherited today. Still used as a measure of who had power.  
  
Castiel was struck again with how right it was that Samandriel take Mage of Thursday. Perhaps if leaders were chosen rather than inherited, they would have more mages like Samandriel and less mages like Michael, and even Raphael and Uriel.  
  
Gabriel opened his palm, an orb of light rising from it to light their way through the end of the room and into a corridor. There was a damp chill to the air and a smell of sodden earth. The temperature lowered the deeper they went.  
  
Gabriel stopped at a set of iron doors covered in Enochian etchings. A guard at the door grimaced at Gabriel.  
  
“Back again?”  
  
Gabriel grinned. “I have a meeting with Billie.”  
  
The guard nodded, stepping aside to bang on the door three times. They slid, grating and groaning, open just enough for the pair to pass through.  
  
A spear was suddenly blocking Castiel’s way and he looked to the guard in confusion. “Name?”  
  
“Castiel, Mage of...” he frowned.  
  
Gabriel, already through the doors, turned to glare at the guard. “Castiel is included in this meeting.”  
  
“Since when?” the guard snapped, furrowing his brow, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s.  
  
“Since now,” both mages answered. Castiel set his jaw, his eyes glowing and the room lighting as his wings came into view, raising menacingly.  
  
The guard stepped back in shock. “My apologies.”  
  
The spear was quickly jerked away, and his head bowed.  
  
“No one else passes through this door before we leave,” Gabriel said sternly. “No one.”  
  
“Yes, Your Highness!”  
  
Castiel and Gabriel continued down the lit corridor, guards glancing at them before bowing their heads. The immediate respect was certainly different than any treatment he’d received in Lawrence.   
  
This section of the complex held relics the angels had left behind. Some of them were very powerful. And all of them were forbidden from ever being used.  
  
Castiel had never met Billie before. She was a mysterious nephilim that protected Purgatory, Freeland, Britland, and Lawrence from flying nephilim. She spent much of her time unaccountable from anyone. And anyone using the wards was hard-pressed to get any kind of exception from her.  
  
Gabriel frowned as they rounded another corner, emptying them into a large chamber with two bronze doors at the far end. Castiel glanced around, curious to what concerned Gabriel now.  
  
“D’you smell that?” Gabriel asked, drawing his sword. “There’s always a guard and a scribe here.”  
  
An acrid stench of something burnt, pungent with a distinct scent of burnt myrrh hung in the air. Castiel raised one hand to his revolted nose as his other drew his own sword.  
  
“Well, well, well.”  
  
Castiel and Gabriel turned around, already knowing who that unmistakable voice belonged to.  
  
“Hey, Mikey,” Gabriel said tightly, sword still raised.  
  
Michael stepped out of another corridor; his hands tucked sedately behind his back with malice in his dark eyes. “Just what, pray tell, are you two doing here?” His voice was smooth along with his grin, flashing his white teeth in contrast to his dark skin.  
  
“Just workin’ on Cassie’s flying training,” Gabriel lied, tipping his sword back and forth before re-gripping it. His brief grin settled into something deadlier.  
  
Michael chuckled. His eyes finally slid over to Castiel, making his back straighten under the powerful glare.   
  
“Castiel.”  
  
Castiel re-gripped his own sword, swallowing thickly as goosebumps raced up his arms.   
  
“I wondered why you disappeared so suddenly. I actually sent quite a few demons looking for you.” Michael tipped his head, giving him a curious grin. “Imagine my surprise when word gets to me that keeper of the bees is making a sudden appearance in Azazel’s camp.”  
  
Michael knew.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael grinned slowly. “I had the greatest update just now from Alastair.”  
  
“Michael,” Gabriel said darkly.  
  
Michael flicked a wrist, the double bronze doors opening with a bang. Castiel glanced back, meeting the allusive Billie. She sat behind a wide, formidable looking desk. Her back was ramrod straight with both palms splayed on the desk. She lifted her heavy eyelids, a trickle of blood running from her mouth. From just below her sternum, the handle of an angel blade stuck obscenely from between her black leather jacket.  
  
“What have you done?” Gabriel gasped.  
  
“I have only just begun,” Michael said low.  
  
Gabriel, staring at the dying ward master, missed Michael lifting his hands in either direction, light emanating from his palms.  
  
Castiel darted in front of Billie, his wings buffering the initial blast of power from Michael.  
  
The entire building rumbled and shook. Castiel was shoved into the deeper chamber and thrown over the desk where Billie sat, he crashed to the floor with Billie now protected beneath him.  
  
Gabriel, still in the outer room, let his wings drop. He was hurt, lying on the floor and had clearly been unable to protect himself enough from Michael’s blast.  
  
Michael stepped forward, gripped Gabriel by the shirt, and lifted him from the floor.  
  
Castiel thrust his palm forward, his own grace bursting forth. He caught Michael off-guard, knocking him back a step, dropping Gabriel who tried to crawl away until Michael grabbed him by the ankle, vanishing.  
  
Castiel dropped his palm, his eyes searching the room. He went to the other plane, finding neither one hiding there. He came back to the Earthly plane, dropping to his knees on the stone floor where the desk now lay in splintered ruins. “GABRIEL!”  
  
His wings ached from the blast. As he heaved and coughed, he heard a strangled sound from behind him. He turned, brushing debris aside, crawling to Billie. He hoisted her up onto his thigh, brushing her curly black hair from her face.  
  
“He d -” she dissolved into a cough, clenching her fists, not willing to touch the handle of the sword.  
  
“Shh, shh,” he soothed. He stared at the metal handle. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen one of the ancient weapons. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the blade away, flinching at the scream from Billie. He tossed the blade and put his hand over the wound, concentrating on healing her. She gripped his arm, choking and coughing as he knitted the wound together.   
  
Her breathing evened out as the wound closed and he healed her other minor injuries. She sat up, brushing her hair from her face. Castiel got the distinct notion that the fine lady was not used to being caught in such situations. She got to her shaky legs, staring at the outer room in shock. “He killed them! All of them! All my guards! My scribe!”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, meaning it.   
  
“Michael flew in here! That’s impossible!” She turned to the back of her room with wide eyes. “He destroyed all the wards!”  
  
Castiel got to his feet, looking at the room full of rubble. Never having been here before, he could only guess how it was supposed to look. He stooped, trying to hold himself as upright as possible. His wings ached, even through the planes. He waved a hand, shifting all the debris off a large slate table. They both neared the large expanse of table, inspecting it. Castiel could see it was a large etched map of the world.  
  
“This is where I manage the wards,” Billie panted, still holding a hand over where the angel blade had been. “I don’t understand how he got in here!”  
  
Castiel pulled his eyes from the map to look at her. “Who else has access to this?”  
  
“No one.” She stared at the table, looking lost.  
  
“Were you working with Michael?” Castiel demanded.  
  
She turned to him with a look of disgust. “I have known Michael and Gabriel for years. I have let them travel only twice each. I had no idea Michael was contacting demons!”  
  
Knowing just what Michael could do, Castiel suspected that Michael had messed with her head. “Billie, may I...check your memories?”  
  
Billie stood a bit straighter, looking at Castiel with suspicion. “I don’t even know you.”  
  
Castiel’s hands dropped to his side. “The wards have been destroyed. You are going to have to trust me. I came here with Gabriel. I’m not going to steal your secrets. I just want to see if Michael has used his grace to alter your memories.”  
  
She slumped slightly, rubbing the torn fabric of her shirt. “Fine.”  
  
Castiel came around the table, approaching her gently. He placed his fingers on her temples and closed his eyes. He gasped at the depth of her mind, the vast knowledge of nephilim history, wards, grace, human history, angel history. He concentrated, but it was high speed and slippery. And there they were, like stamps covering pieces of time. He destroyed one after the next, seven in total before letting go with another gasp.  
  
Billie staggered back, slumping against the wall. Her eyes were wide with stunned shock. “Michael visited me. Many times. I let him into Purgatory and...he used his grace to make me forget!”  
  
Castiel understood her dilemma. Other than Michael, there was no one to blame but herself.  
  
“What have I done?” She sunk to the floor.  
  
“Billie, Michael is powerful. You could not have known.” His eyes raked over the map. “He could be anywhere.”  
  
She stood up, anger lighting her face. “He’s working with demons. He means to use the demon’s farms for human breeders. He talked about it. Bragged about it, then wiped it from my memory.”  
  
Castiel stared at her in disbelief. “What?”  
  
“The oldest memory he blocked was when I questioned him about the lack of humans coming through the Sunken Ties. No one makes it through because they are captured and farmed by the demons or Leviathans. Michael is supposed to get the best pick from the farms to keep for breeding.”  
  
“Would you please refrain from using that term,” Castiel snapped.   
  
Her dark eyes met his. “My apologies,” she said suavely, mustering what must be closer to her truer personality. “Michael not only plans to eradicate free humanity. He means to choke out all the other nephilim from having children, so his bloodline is the only one left.”  
  
Castiel’s knees felt weak. “He’s gone completely mad.”  
  
She nodded.   
  
Shouts could be heard from the hall. The guards must have figured out nephilim were missing from their posts.  
  
Castiel glanced at the destruction in the room. “What do we tell them?”  
  
A sound of fluttering wings made Billie and Castiel both jump.  
  
“And I thought you two were dead,” Michael said shortly, standing in the doorway.  
  
Billie jumped to Castiel, but Michael’s blast caught him, his materializing wings only shielding some of the blast. He pulled her to the other plane, Michael following them.  
  
“You cannot hide from me, Castiel!” Michael roared.  
  
His thoughts scrambled, taking another searing blast with a cry. He flew, landing in a smoking heap on the ground.  
  
Billie cried out, cradling her arm that was now burnt.  
  
“Cas?!”  
  
Castiel’s vision blurred, his head rang, and his body burned and ached.  
  
Writhing, he fought to stay conscious, blinking to understand where he was and if Michael had followed.  
  
He was on a floor, beside a bed and Dean was crouching down over him, his hands hovering, seeming to be afraid to touch him.  
  
“Cas!”  
  
“Michael,” he managed to get out, trying to look around for him.  
  
Dean glanced around the room, his eyes locking onto Billie. “Unless that’s Michael, you’re safe.”  
  
Billie was sliding back against a dresser, sitting up, looking around the room in guarded wonder. “Where are we?” She asked.  
  
Castiel gasped, his head dropping to the floor. He did not recognize the room, but he must have instinctively flown to Dean.  
  
Their eyes met finally.  
  
“Cas, are you okay?”  
  
Castiel’s jaw worked but his self-assessment said he was not okay. “I was...attacked by Michael. He…he took Gabriel...or killed him.”  
  
Dean’s cool hand landed softly on his forehead, brushing hair away. “It’ll be okay, Cas. I got you.”  
  
Castiel groaned, letting the coolness of Dean’s hand focus him. He pooled his grace, pushing the pain away. Thinking straighter now, he closed his eyes and began healing himself.  
  
  
  
*************************************************  
  
  
  
Dean pulled his hand away, startled at the intensely bright light that emanated from Cas. Relief flooded him as the garish scorched skin on his arm began healing rapidly. Cas sighed and his eyes opened.  
  
“Cas?!” Dean said again.  
  
Cas sat up, wincing. “I’ll be right back. I need to tend to my wings.”  
  
Dean’s hands flew up in annoyance as he stared at the empty spot where Cas had been sitting. Dean stared at the woman sitting against his dresser cradling her arm to her chest. Dean stood, pulling his sword from its holder, currently hanging from his headboard. Pointing the sword at the woman, staring at her, he said, “Who are you?”  
  
She glared at him. “I am Billie. Master of Wards. Who are you? And, where am I?”  
  
“Dean, keeper of this mess of a sprite.” Dean lowered the sword but kept it firmly in hand. “Welcome to Lawrence.”  
  
Billie’s eyes widened. Her eyes traveled around the room with a touch of disdain. “I suppose you are a human then.”  
  
Dean smirked. “I suppose you aren’t.”  
  
She struggled to her feet, dressed in black leather pants, boots, and jacket. She might be slightly disheveled and injured, but there was no mistaking the power that she held. It made Dean want to shrink back but he held his ground, even if his ground was his bedroom floor and all he wore were sleeping pants.  
  
Dean was startled at a loud boom as Cas suddenly slammed to the floor, his bed shoved sideways, and his water basin rocked and fell to the floor, shattering.  
  
“What the hell!” Dean yelled, scrambling to his feet as Cas did the same.   
  
Cas gave Dean a preoccupied look. “I was healing my wings. Michael found me.”  
  
“Can he follow you?” Dean asked, sword raising again.  
  
“No, I don’t think so. I went back to The Garden.” He looked back at Billie with an apologetic look. “Michael killed all the guards.”  
  
Billie grimaced, looking away for a moment.  
  
A loud knock beat on the door. “Dean? Are you alright?”  
  
Dean stepped around Cas, opening the door to let Sam in. “I think so.”  
  
Sam straightened at the sight of the stranger, giving her a suspicious look. “Cas!”  
  
“Hello, Sam.” Cas waved a hand, fixing all the furniture he had run into on his second landing.  
  
Dean turned back to Cas. “Dude. What is going on? Are you okay?”  
  
Cas sighed, his shoulders slumping. “My body is fine. My wings will heal. But no, I am not okay. None of us are. Michael has destroyed all the wards. He can fly anywhere now.”  
  
Dean stared at Cas in shock. “He can fly here?”  
  
Castiel glanced around the room. “Yes. Am I at the bunker?”  
  
“Yeah. You were supposed to meet me by Lebanon Road at noon today. You never showed.”  
  
Cas’ eyes met his. “My apologies. Gabriel and I went to The Garden to meet with Billie. Unfortunately, Michael beat us there. And he knows Gabriel and I know he is the one working with demons.”  
  
“Wait,” Sam interjected, stepping next to Dean. “What does that mean?”  
  
Castiel pressed his mouth together. “Toll the bells. We are officially at war.”  
  
Sam took a shocked step back. “He can come here?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel said more firmly. “The people need warned, Sam. Toll the bells.”  
  
Sam ran from the room.  
  
Dean watched as Cas repaired his shirt and coat. The sprite looked up at him with sorrow in his blue eyes.  
  
Dean tossed the sword on his bed and stepped up to Cas, hugging him tight. “I’m sorry about Gabriel. And I’m so glad you’re okay.”  
  
Cas hugged him back easily, squeezing him tight as his chin rested on Dean’s shoulder, finding comfort. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his hand fisting gently into Cas’ hair. He couldn’t believe he could have lost Cas tonight. The war had barely begun and already things had become so dire.  
  
Cas pulled back, stepping over to the window. “I don’t even know how I flew here. I’ve never been in this room.”  
  
“You didn’t fly to the room,” Billie said quietly, reminding Dean she was there at all. “You flew to him. Who is this?”  
  
Dean and Cas exchanged a look of confused surprise.  
  
“I didn’t even know I could do that,” Cas admitted.  
  
“Well, he must be special to you,” Billie suggested.  
  
“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.”  
  
Billie nodded slowly. “Ohhh, John’s son.”  
  
“And you’re a sprite, right?” Dean smirked irritably.  
  
“I am.”  
  
Castiel went to Billie’s side, healing her arm. “Billie is not one of the seven, but she holds a special rank all her own as Master of Wards. Michael has been using her, then altering her memories.”  
  
They all stared out the window as the bell tolled three times. Then three more. Again, and again. It was the signal that everyone should lock their doors and proceed with caution. And eligible men and women would report to the bunker for instructions on where to go to fight.  
  
“I failed to stop him,” Cas said quietly, lamenting whatever happened between him and Michael.  
  
“Freeland is already under attack, if not completely over-run,” Dean told him, getting another sorrowful look from Cas. “Crowley told us.”  
  
Cas paced the length of the room as Dean’s door burst open and his dad stepped in.   
  
“What’s happening?” John asked sharply, realizing Cas and the stranger were there.  
  
Castiel turned to him. “Ready your troops. We go to battle today.”  
  
Chills stabbed Dean’s arms, neck, and scalp.  
  
“The wards are broken. Michael could be anywhere. I’ll return as soon as I know something.”  
  
Dean swore under his breath. Cas was gone. Just vanished. He was going to have to talk to him about not coming and going so damned abruptly.  
  
“This lady needs escorted to protection,” Dean said to his father tightly. “I need to get ready.”  
  
  
  
********************************************  
  
  
  
Dean trotted along the line of townspeople gathered outside the courtyard of the bunker. Dawn was cresting with an orange-pink sky. Frost crunched under Impala’s hooves as he rounded the group of sixty men and women standing ready to fight. He would be leading the first battle, not that he even understood what exactly that was going to entail.  
  
“Dean!”  
  
Dean halted, turning Impala to see Cas striding toward him. His wings stood high and Dean could hear the gathered crowd’s gasps of shock at their first sighting of a sprite. Impala whinnied, trotting to him quickly, ducking her head to receive his open hands and the first smile he had seen on his face since he crashed into Dean’s room in the middle of the night.  
  
“Next time I’ll whinny when I see you,” Dean joked, forcing a little laugh. He did get a brief grin for that.  
  
“It seems a lot of people have shown up. Are they ready to fight?”  
  
Dean hesitated only a second. “Yeah. We’re ready.”  
  
Cas reached up, laying a steady hand on his thigh. Dean gave him a fleeting smile. This was no time to go soft. Cas squeezed his thigh and stepped away.  
  
He strode to the front and center of the troop, putting two fingers to his throat. When he spoke, his voice came out loud enough for all the waiting make-shift soldiers to hear. “Good morning, brave men and women of Lawrence. I am Castiel. Legion of Thursday is already in place. Michael and his legion have attacked Jefferson City.”  
  
Dean gripped his reins. Jefferson City was a small town nearby. It seemed like a strange place to start, its biggest feature being the main hub of the train system in Lawrence and not much else. And there was his answer. If the demons controlled the trains, it would slow down the whole country.   
  
“Legion of Thursday began attacking from the north side of town. I will be taking everyone with me, flying, to the south end of town to hopefully destroy any advantage they could have gained. When we fly, it will pull at your body, only lasting a few seconds. When we land, you will be in place to fight immediately.”  
  
Dean watched over the crowd as people got their guns and knives, axes, and machetes ready.  
  
“Michael was there when I left,” Castiel went on. “Do not engage him. My legion and I will fight him. You will recognize Legion of Sunday soldiers by the suns on the chest of their uniforms. Thursdays have an arrow.”  
  
Castiel looked up to Dean, removing his fingers from his throat. “Prepare your men.”  
  
Dean nodded. It was hard to believe this was the quiet man that was elated when he could produce sparks from his palm. The calm fire in his eyes and the power that radiated from him was immense.  
  
Dean nudged Impala forward to stand in front of the crowd. “This is what we’ve prepared for. The demons cannot take Jefferson City!”  
  
The crowd hollered back their anger.  
  
Dean stood in his stirrups, as fired-up as all of them. “They can’t take ANY city!”  
  
The crowd roared back.  
  
“GRIP UP!” Dean shouted. “Let’s kick it in the ass!”   
  
His people had been trained with what little time they had to prepare, to grip the shoulder of the person in front of them, keeping every person connected to fly.  
  
Dean trotted to the left most person in the front row and the man gripped Dean’s ankle.  
  
Castiel strode forward on Dean’s other side with a proud grin on his face. Dean let go of the rein with one hand, taking Castiel’s firmly. “You sure you can move this many people and horses?”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Stay safe, Dean.”  
  
Dean winked. He turned, shouting, “Three! Two! One!”  
  
Dean felt the familiar pull, barely gasping as Impala shied sideways slightly upon landing.  
  
Dawn seemed to give way to morning light quickly, giving them enough light to see that Jefferson City looked ravaged.   
  
Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand, getting his attention. “I must find Michael.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Love you.”  
  
“I love you,” Castiel said quietly, letting go of him. He vanished and Dean took a steadying breath, hoping Cas could out-fight Michael. He couldn’t think about it too long though, or he would gallop headfirst into things to try and protect him. Instead, he set his mind on the task at hand.  
  
Kill these invading demon and nephilim bastards.  
  
He motioned for the right flank to take the street to the right, the center to stay forward with him, and the left flank (all mounted riders) to take two roads over to the left.  
  
Impala walked forward at his command, the men in his group staying with him. They crossed the double set of train tracks and had only gone a few houses deep into town before Dean saw the first casualty. A man lying dead and maimed in front of the town’s bank. They moved forward quickly, hearing battle ahead. As they rounded a bend in the road, the scene before them had them all moving at a run. Sprites in white tunics with suns, yellow pants, and bloody swords battled men and women from Jefferson City and sprites with red pants and white tunics with arrows.  
  
Dean charged ahead, slicing a sprite’s throat, saving a Thursday from a losing scrimmage. He ran further, seeing demons swirling in the sky above, hoping to sink into an unprotected body. He stabbed another sprite, and another before any of them realized they were now surrounded by Dean’s little army.  
  
Screams and running people caught his attention as a loud boom sounded from further ahead. Dean saw the tips of arched wings, soon joined violently by another and he knew Cas had found his mark. Impala reared, kicking a sprite as Dean refocused his attention.  
  
“That’s my baby!” Dean cheered, stabbing another sprite that had a sword lifted in attack. They mowed through the crowd, the Thursdays taking the upper hand again to fight harder. Dean saw how brutally they could fight. They hit like runaway trains, knocking each other so hard they would fly several feet, crash, and slide several more.  
  
Another loud boom was heard and one of the nearby buildings went up in flames. A man ran toward Dean. Not knowing if he were a townsperson or a demon, he raised his sword in warning. Before the man could reach him, a Thursday snatched him mid run, slamming him to the ground. Dean yelled for him to stop but the sprite slapped his hand down on the man’s head and white light shot from his eyes and mouth before a column of smoke erupted and darted toward the sky.  
  
The sprite stood, meeting Dean’s eye with a nod.  
  
Dean nodded back, moving on again.  
  
The battle went on, unorganized and messy with confusion on who were people and who were demons. People learned to show their anti-possession tattoos quickly when someone besides a Sunday came at them.  
  
Dean dismounted, grabbing a man, throwing him to the ground as he went to stab an already engaged Thursday in the back. The man sprung back to his feet so quickly Dean knew it had to be a demon. As he faced off with the man, he was shocked when a blade sprang from his chest, his mouth opening in a silent cry. As the black column of smoke began to shoot from his mouth, the holder of the blade came around his shoulder, capturing the smoke to shove it back inside. It was Cas, muttering something in another language as the demon jolted with white light several times and the body went limp. Cas laid the body on the ground and stood to face Dean.  
  
“Cas!” Dean hugged him. His coat was charred, damaged and as dirty as his hands and face.  
  
“Dean,” Cas sighed in relief, hugging him. “Michael left.”  
  
Dean pulled back, looking as Sunday sprites disappeared. Demons circling in the air shot north and the Thursdays began to gather in the middle of the Main Street.  
  
Dean turned to Cas. “We won?”  
  
Castiel grinned. “We won this battle.”  
  
“YES!” Dean hollered, kissing Cas full on the mouth before running back to Impala, mounting her, and beginning a sweep of the town to gather everyone.  
  
The townspeople and the soldiers from Lebanon gathered at one end of the street, Thursdays at the other, with Dean and Cas between them.  
  
“I need to take my soldiers home,” Cas said quietly.  
  
Dean turned to the Thursday sprites standing in perfect lines, awaiting Cas. The ones lying dead or injured in the arms of soldiers did not miss Dean’s eye.  
  
“Sorry, Cas,” Dean said quietly.  
  
Cas turned, looking at his men. “You as well.”  
  
Dean turned to his own men, noting at least six dead. And this was just the first battle. Michael had gotten away and everyone had lost lives. His elation quickly tempered with the reality around him. He stepped up to the Thursday sprites.  
  
“Thank you for your help.”  
  
Several sprites along the front line nodded gravely. Cas stepped up beside him, raising a hand. The sprites stood to attention and suddenly they were all gone.  
  
Charlie weaved her way through the crowd, Jo at her side. She stood next to Dean solemnly. “Everyone fought bravely.”  
  
He put an arm around her shoulders, thankful the witch had decided to fight with him specifically. She was brave and had fought not only with magic but with her sword as well. And Jo had been ruthless, protecting her.  
  
“Thank you,” came a wavering voice from a man who must live in Jefferson City.  
  
Dean turned to him. “How did this start?”  
  
“People saw black snakes in the sky. Demons, I guess. Most of us have the tattoo our sheriff told us to get, so they didn’t have much luck finding bodies to get inside. But there were some who didn’t listen to the sheriff.” He looked toward the town’s market, where others were lining up dead bodies. “Then this...sprite showed up with an army and...”  
  
Dean nodded, putting a hand on the devastated man’s shoulder. “I’m glad we got here in time.”  
  
“Those other soldiers got here and...I thought we were doomed! But they started fighting each other!”  
  
Dean nodded. “The enemies wear a sun on their uniform. And the first sprite with wings that you saw was Michael.”  
  
Cas appeared, quite literally, and the man staggered back a step in fear.  
  
Dean quickly took Cas’ hand. “This is Castiel. He’s on our side. Along with those other guys wearing arrows.”  
  
“I am leaving two of my men here in town. They know how to get ahold of me quickly if Michael or any of your enemies return. Please give them food, water and shelter.”  
  
The man looked at the two men in uniforms. “Uh, okay, sure.” He looked slightly terrified of them but waved for them to follow him anyway.  
  
“The town can take care of itself at this point,” Castiel said quietly. “I’ll take you all home now.”  
  
They joined Charlie and Jo.  
  
“Hey, how did you move all those people without them touching?” Charlie asked, always curious about everything Cas did.  
  
Cas quirked a grin. “I am learning to use my grace quickly.”  
  
She shrugged, not understanding it either, but taking Cas for his word.  
  
“Are all your people gathered?” Cas asked.  
  
Dean ran his eyes over his awaiting group. “Yep.”  
  
Castiel lifted his arm and waited for everyone to focus on him. He waved his hand and they were once again just outside the courtyard in Lawrence.  
  
“Sweet,” Dean grinned. “Thanks for the lift, Cas.”  
  
Cas grinned briefly before turning away.  
  
“Hey!” Dean grabbed Cas’ arm as the soldiers began to disperse. “The fighting sounded pretty bad. Was it?”  
  
Castiel nodded slowly, “It was...he’s a difficult adversary.”  
  
Dean stepped closer. “But...you’re okay, right?”  
  
Cas smiled faintly. “I will be fine. My...” he glanced down, speaking even softer. “My wings could use some help.”  
  
Dean grinned. “I’m available ANY time! AND you apparently know how to find me.”  
  
Cas nodded, fighting not to blush as he smiled.

  
  



	23. Gunnison and Sunken Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang regroups.  
> Donna gets a gift.  
> Dean steps foot into Haven for the first time.

Chapter 23: Gunnison to Sunken Ties  
  


Dean leaned against the wall of the small meeting room. Sam, Henriksen, Bobby, Missouri, Charlie, John, Samuel, and Cas had just gathered to regroup from the day’s developments.   
  
John spread a map onto the table. “Each of the red markers are places troops can gather with just a few hours’ notice.”  
  
Cas studied the map, committing the points to memory.  
  
His eyes had no sooner lifted from the map than Samuel was pushing his way in. “Was the battle at Jefferson City won?”  
  
“I lost good men. You lost men and women. And Michael got away. But demons did not get a hold on the city,” Cas said tightly. “I would say the battle was won at a high cost.”  
  
“That’s good though, Cas,” Sam insisted. “That is a win.”  
  
Cas nodded sadly.  
  
“Where’s Gabriel?” John asked, annoyed he wasn’t with the rest of them.  
  
Castiel’s back straightened as his eyes darted across the map. “Gabriel was taken by Michael.”  
  
Dean’s heart clenched. It was a terrifying thought and the melancholy of Cas’ tone said as much.  
  
Everyone looked shocked, gasping, or covering their mouth in surprise. Except John and Samuel. They looked pissed. Like one of their weapons had been compromised.  
  
“What can we do?” Charlie asked.  
  
Castiel shrugged. “He could be anywhere. Anywhere in the world. I have checked several places already, but I have not found him yet. And...” Cas swallowed thickly, “there is the possibility that he is dead.”  
  
Charlie and Sam shook their heads in denial. “We’ll find him!” Sam swore.  
  
“We don’t have time to look for him!” Samuel barked. “We’re in the middle of a damn war!”  
  
Dean closed his eyes at the callous words of his grandfather. Opening them, he stepped into the group, shoving the map to the floor. “We have NO chance of winning the fucking war if we don’t have Gabriel and Castiel. So how about we take care of what we have before we’re all just a bunch of demon suits.”  
  
Samuel pulled himself up to his full height but did not argue.   
  
“Michael got away,” Castiel went on, trying to smooth things over, “but he was most definitely injured. I would like to take a few days and try to find Gabriel.”  
  
Sam, Charlie, Missouri, Henriksen, and Bobby nodded.  
  
“You have two days,” John said quietly. “Then we need you back here.”  
  
Castiel nodded.  
  
Dean and his dad exchanged a quick glare.  
  
“I’m going with him,” Dean stated.  
  
“Me too!” Charlie piped in.  
  
“And me,” Sam added.  
  
“I’d tell you not to, but I have a feeling no one is listening to me anyway,” John complained. “So...be back on time.”  
  
Dean took Cas by the hand and left the room. He took the nearest staircase to the next floor.  
  
“Dean, where are we going?”   
  
“My room,” Dean sighed.   
  
“But Dean -”  
  
Dean flung his bedroom door open, whirled Cas inside and slammed it shut, locking it.  
  
Cas glanced toward the bed. “This really isn’t the time -”  
  
Dean stepped over to his dresser, grabbing the jar of healing lotion Charlie had made. “Let’s go.” He faced Cas, taking his hand.  
  
“Go where?”  
  
“To your wings. Between. Wherever you call it,” Dean said quickly, wagging the lotion.  
  
Cas tipped his head, looking confused. “To the other plane?”  
  
“Yeah. We gotta come up with a better name than that,” Dean grinned.  
  
Cas gripped his hand with a little grin curving one corner of his mouth. Dean took a deep breath as he was pulled into the other plane, the world outside of them washing into lavender.  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped. “Cas!” He stepped back, staring at Cas’ wings. Both wings were singed in multiple places, feathers missing and broken.  
  
Castiel’s head dropped, his brow knitting as both wings wilted slightly, making him wince.  
  
Dean circled around him, staring in horror at the destruction of what had been so beautiful. By the time he was face to face with Cas again, there was a look on his face that wrenched Dean’s heart. “Hey,” he said softly.  
  
“I hoped they would look better,” he said, still not meeting Dean’s eyes.  
  
Dean wanted to fix this. Like working on restoring wagons with Bobby. He could hammer and pry and re-align wagon parts. But this...this was so far beyond him.  
  
“Does it hurt?” He whispered, reaching out but not touching him.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Dean’s heart squeezed even tighter. But Cas looked more than just in pain. “Show me how you’re feeling.”  
  
Cas met his eyes but glanced away, taking a step back. “No.”  
  
“Yes. I can’t help if I don’t understand.”  
  
Castiel crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“Okay, stubborn,” Dean smirked.  
  
Cas scoffed, looking away stubbornly.  
  
“Show me,” Dean said softer, leaning to catch Cas’ eyes and hold them.  
  
Cas sighed and closed his eyes. Dean had to stifle a sudden out-cry as pain burned along his back. Pain, brittle, fragile, confused. Shame, embarrassed. Fear. Shame. Each came like a pummel to Dean’s chest until he wanted to choke on them. “Okay!”  
  
Cas reeled his emotions back, staring off to the left as Dean shifted his shoulders to shake off the feelings that had just been there. “What are you ashamed of?” Dean asked.  
  
Cas’ eyes rolled upward as his chin wobbled slightly.  
  
Dean glanced at the ravaged wings again. “Cas, please tell me you aren’t ashamed of your wings.”  
  
“Huh,” Cas laughed bitterly. “They used to make your eyes light up. They used to be something special.”  
  
“They still are!” Dean pulled his arms apart, fighting to get into Cas’ space. “You are perfect.”  
  
Cas shook his head no.  
  
Dean bit his lip, trying not to grin. He took Cas by the forearm, putting his thumb over their sigil. Cas fought a grin but managed one anyway, his hand turning to cup Dean’s arm and put his thumb to Dean’s sigil as well.  
  
“You fought Michael,” Dean said softly, their mouths close enough to kiss. “You earned every scar you get. And you know what they say.”  
  
“What does who say?” Cas asked, as entranced with Dean’s lips as he was with Cas’.  
  
Dean snorted a laugh at Cas’ adorable confusion, making him frown harder, making Dean grin harder.  
  
“They, like, everybody,” Dean clarified, “says scars are cool.”  
  
Cas thought about that, moving his hands easily out of the way so Dean could slide his hands under Cas’ shirt.  
  
“They are not cool. They burn.”  
  
Dean’s heart broke a little at the admission of pain, but he grinned again quickly, sliding his thumb over the scar on Cas’ side. “I meant they look good. This one, for example,” Dean’s thumb brushed along the long scar around Cas’ side, “makes me want to lick your skin.”  
  
Cas’ eyes widened a little, his pupils dilating. “It does?”  
  
“Mmm. And I’m sorry your wings hurt but ya know what that means?”  
  
“What?” Cas asked, taking a kiss gently.  
  
“Means I get to touch them a lot. And I like that.”  
  
Cas blushed, taking Dean’s words to heart. “I like when you touch them too.”  
  
Dean leaned in, unable to resist the sprite’s mouth any longer. He kissed him slow and deep, his thumb still sliding along the ridge of scar, making him groan into the kiss. Cas tipped his head, deepening the kiss until they were both feeling much happier.  
  
“Now,” Dean growled, stepping back, “sit or lay. Get comfortable so I can take care of you.”  
  
Grinning shyly, Cas sat down.  
  
Dean opened the jar, scooping plenty of cream onto his fingers then handing the jar to Cas to hold. His eyes took in the singed feathers and exposed and burned skin. “Tell me if I hurt you.”  
  
Cas nodded and Dean went to work, smoothing the cream over the red and charred skin, massaging gently into the brittle, frayed edges of burnt feathers. He worked a long time, slowly spreading the cream with care, leaving kisses along the healthy feathers along the ridges. As he worked, Cas relaxed, letting Dean move his wings.   
  
“I’m worried about Gabriel,” Cas said quietly, stirring Dean from the methodical slide of cream onto feathers. 

“Me too.” 

“I...” Cas winced as Dean began smoothing cream over red skin, “I was not just ashamed of my wings. I am ashamed I didn’t stop Michael. Your father was...quite disappointed in me.”

Dean stopped, circling around to kneel in front of Cas. “One, you have nothing to prove to my father. Like, at all. Ever.”

“But -“

“No. This war is about more than him. Forget him. Two, Michael isn’t just the local pain in the ass at the pub. He’s got major juice.”

Castiel looked confused.

“Mojo. Magic,” Dean amended quickly. Do not beat yourself up for anything, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him with an encouraged grin. “You are right. There is no shame. I tried very hard.”

Dean grinned, kissing him. “Bet no one is tending his wounds like I’m tending yours.”

Cas grinned. “Not like you, no.”

Dean muttered on about how Michael was probably stuck with some half scared and definitely uninterested person to tend to his wings, making Cas chuckle several times.

Finished, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, resting his head along the ridge of one wing. “You’re already healing.”  
  
“I feel so much better, Dean. Thank you.”  
  
Dean kissed the back of Cas’ neck, laying against him. He had almost cried when several feathers came out in his hand. He kept everyone, tucking them into his belt.  
  
“I’m glad you feel better,” Dean said softly. “We should go back and get some sleep.”  
  
Cas sighed, taking them back to their regular plane. Now that Cas’ wings were gone, he had more access to his back, trailing kisses along one shoulder as his hands caressed his chest. They were kneeling on the floor beside Dean’s bed. He stood, offering Cas a hand. “Come sleep with me. Tomorrow we’ll find Gabriel.”  
  
Cas nodded; his eyelids heavy.  
  
They undressed and got into bed, weaving into each other until they were both satisfied and comfortable.  
  
“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas whispered against his cheek.  
  
“Love you more,” Dean murmured back, meeting him for a sweet kiss.  
  
  
  
************************************************************  
  
  
  
As they dressed and got ready early the next morning, Castiel felt markedly better than the day before. If he didn’t know better, he would swear Dean was a witch.  
  
He leaned against the door, waiting as Dean insisted on putting his own boots on. He thought about the meeting they had abruptly left yesterday. He had not had much time to reflect on some of the things that were said. Dean shifted his shirt into place and looked up at him, ready to go.  
  
“Dean, your father does not like me very much, does he?”  
  
An irritated and guilty look crossed Dean’s face. “He don’t like anybody very much.”  
  
“Nonsense,” Castiel countered. “The people of Lebanon rejoiced at his return. He seems well loved.”  
  
Dean licked his lips, his eyes moving slowly. “He’s a good sheriff. He’s fair. Direct. He’s...” he sighed.  
  
Castiel nodded. “He does not trust me.”  
  
“Or any nephilim,” Dean clarified quietly.  
  
Castiel shook his head. Despite all he had gone through. Gabriel sacrificed himself over and over for them. Still, there was doubt.  
  
“Come on. I’m not worried about what my dad thinks of you. We’re good, Cas. That’s all that really matters.”  
  
Castiel smiled sadly. It would have to do for now. He buried the dread of telling John and Dean that he was no longer Mage of Thursday. John would see it as a weakness. A loss for their side on the war. And Dean would have questions. A lot of questions. Humans always did. And he was not ready to answer questions about losing his station. He still mourned the loss of his title, as petty as that may be. His life, besides his duties with the war, was uncertain. Dean would want answers, reassurance, and confidence. Now, all he had was the fortitude to find Gabriel.  
  
They stepped into the hall, surprised to find Charlie and Sam sleeping against the wall. Charlie jumped at the rattling doorknob; whacking Sam awake.  
  
“Time to go!” She announced, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and blinking sleepily.  
  
“Did you two sleep in the hall?” Dean asked.  
  
“Yeah,” they both admitted.  
  
“You would’ve left us behind,” Sam explained further, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. Dean had to chuckle at the stubborn people in his life.  
  
“You two are seriously coming?” Dean asked.  
  
“We are,” Sam yawned, grabbing his bag.  
  
“No Jo?” Dean asked Charlie, not used to seeing the witch on her own.  
  
“She went to Sioux Falls with Bobby and Mom. Jody Mills was a friend of Ellen’s before she left for Purgatory.” Charlie scrunched her mouth. “But if I’m not back when she gets here, I might have to do some major explaining. And begging.”  
  
Dean laughed. “For the record, you going was not my idea.”  
  
“Noted,” Charlie grinned.  
  
“Party of four, then,” Dean muttered, heading downstairs to the table in the kitchen.  
  
“Oh, yous are leavin’ early!” Donna said, waving them all to sit. “Dean said you’d be headin’ out first thing, but the chickens aren’t even up yet!”  
  
Dean took a seat with the others, Charlie and Sam looking much more tired than he and Cas.  
  
“We’ve got hot apple cider and hows about eggs and toast?”  
  
“That would be wonderful,” Castiel admitted. “There is something about human-made food that tastes better than what I make.”  
  
“Hand-made,” Charlie corrected. “Human-made sounds kinda...racist.”  
  
“My apologies,” Cas murmured.  
  
“I like your cooking just fine,” Dean grinned, sipping the apple cider. “I’d marry you right this second if you could make me a cup of coffee.”  
  
“Shit, I’d marry you too,” Sam yawned.  
  
Castiel looked between the brothers. Coffee. “If you have a few beans -”  
  
“That’s the problem,” Dean sighed. “Major bean shortage the past few years. The coffee plantation was hit with a bug that destroyed the crops. So...coffee has been almost entirely gone for two years now.”  
  
Castiel searched inside his grace. Gabriel could create things out of nothing...so maybe he could too. He thought of the leafy bushes with beans. He thought about the beans, trying to remember how they felt in his hands, their smell, the structure inside. As the others talked around him, he attempted to create something out of nothing but a memory. If Gabriel could do it, so could he. He concentrated hard and stared hard at an empty spot on the table. With an extra squeeze of his grace, a pile of what looked like dust burst onto the table, shocking everyone, and covering all four sitting at the table in brown dust.  
  
“What the hell!” Sam coughed, waving a hand in front of his now dust-covered face.  
  
Charlie and Dean coughed, staring at him in shock. They too were covered in a fine layer of brown dust on their faces, hair, arms, hands, and chests.  
  
“Were you,” Dean wiped a hand down his face, licking his lips with a grimace, “trying to make coffee?”  
  
“I was,” Castiel admitted, taking a handful of the dust from the main pile. He was startled when Dean laughed, caught his chin, and kissed him, smudging the dust even more.  
  
“Love ya just for trying,” Dean chuckled.  
  
“What the cuss?” Donna yelled, nearing the dust covered table with a frying pan full of fried eggs. “You best know just how ta un-dust my kitchen!”  
  
Castiel waved his hand, all the dust disappearing.  
  
Donna relaxed immediately, her smile returning. “Wow. Gotta say I wasn’t expectin’ that. If you can clean the whole kitchen, I’ll marry ya.”  
  
Castiel’s heart swelled with warmth at the group. Humans were by far his favorite people to be around. He glanced around the kitchen and snapped his fingers with a grin.  
  
Donna almost dropped the frying pan as her wide eyes swept across the kitchen. The floors shined, the pots and kettles no longer had scorch marks, dents, or stains, the dishes were put away and the food was stored tidily.  
  
“Oh!” Donna gasped. “It’s...” her eyes fell back on Castiel with tears in them. “It’s clean as a whistle!”  
  
Castiel was unprepared for the hug, dodging the frying pan as Dean swerved out of its way as well. “Thank you!”  
  
Castiel patted her shoulder with a chuckle. “You are quite welcome, Donna.”  
  
“Holy chicken in a biscuit,” she gasped, standing up straight again, “no one has ever done anything like that for me before!”  
  
She weaved around the kitchen work tables, staring into the cabinets. “They’re clean on the inside!”  
  
“Think she’d notice if I steal that pan of eggs?” Charlie murmured.  
  
“The wood for the fires is clean! How the h-e double hockey sticks do you clean wood?!”  
  
Seeing none of them were getting their breakfast, Castiel snapped his fingers, the food plating and landing on the table.  
  
“Forks,” Dean grinned.  
  
Castiel pointed a finger, four forks popping onto the table with a slight rattle.  
  
Charlie giggled, Sam dug in with a grin, and Dean gave him a slow grin. “So fuckin’ hot.”  
  
Castiel made a mental note to move things around and use his grace more often around Dean.   
  
“The apples are even clean! And...the laundry done!”  
  
“She’s gonna propose,” Sam grinned, watching Donna peek into every drawer and cabinet as she carried the now-clean frying pan at her side.  
  
Castiel chuckled as he ate.  
  
  
  
***************************************************  
  
  
  
They stepped out the back door as dawn crept into the sky. Donna waved good-bye as she rounded the bunker to feed her chickens, singing as she went.  
  
“So, where are we looking?” Dean asked.  
  
Castiel tugged his coat tighter around his neck to keep the cold out. “I’ve already searched Gabriel’s palace. I thought, surely, that’s where he would take him.”  
  
“Michael’s place then?” Dean asked. “Or do the Sundays have some kind of meeting hall?”  
  
“We should go see Samandriel first. Perhaps word was sent.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Off to Tree of...where?”  
  
“Tree of Knowledge,” Castiel supplied. As Charlie took Sam’s hand and Sam reached for Dean, Castiel held up a hand. “That is no longer necessary. I can fly whom I wish.”  
  
They nodded, always impressed with his gain in powers. Dean still reached for his hand with a little grin, Castiel taking it warmly. “Let’s go.”  
  
Castiel nodded, his wings spreading much more comfortably today than yesterday. And even though Sam and Charlie failed to hide their astonishment at his beaten wings, he rallied in the proud grin Dean wore.  
  
He took them, the loud flutter the only sound in their ears as they pulled from where they stood, flying until a sudden and abrupt wall stopped him so harshly that they all crashed to the ground, gasping in pain from the fall.  
  
Castiel got to his knees, blowing leaves and dirt from his face, looking around in stunned shock.  
  
Sam rolled to his side, cradling a shoulder as Charlie coughed and got to her knees, holding a scraped and bleeding elbow. Dean moaned from the flat of his back beside him, digging a stone out and pitching it to the side.   
“Why’d we land like that?” Sam groaned, all of them looking around with wide eyes.   
  
Castiel got to his feet. The sky had a familiar gray pallor that made his heart break. “Are we in Purgatory?”  
  
“Friggin’ smells like it,” Dean scoffed, dusting dirt and leaves off his pants.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Castiel admitted with frustration.  
  
“Can we leave?” Charlie asked, glancing around the wooded area, mountain peaks visible in the distance.  
  
“I can try,” Castiel said nervously. He hated being blocked when flying. It was painful and extremely stifling. Castiel took a deep breath attempting to fly to Haven again. He felt the solid block, all of them lurching to the ground again. Castiel stood, anger spiking as he dug deep, attempting to go back to the bunker, slamming into a wall again, everyone hitting the ground again, all of them moaning in frustration and pain. Castiel stood, taking another breath, trying to fly to Charlie’s house.  
  
“Stop!” Dean cried, the others groaning even louder.  
  
“I can’t fly anywhere!” Castiel huffed, biting back the pain.  
  
“No shit,” Dean groaned, getting to his knees again.  
  
“Uuuhhh,” Charlie whined. “That felt like...”  
  
“Like getting shaken up in a cinder block room,” Sam snapped.  
  
Castiel stood, huffing with anger again.  
  
“Don’t!” Dean warned, not touching him in warning. “Don’t try it again, dude. The wards must be back up.”  
  
Sam pulled Charlie to her feet. “Can you heal us, Cas?”  
  
Castiel pulled his frustrated gaze from the mountains and gray sky. He touched each one of them on the forehead, alleviating their cuts and scrapes, then healed his own.  
  
“This was SO not the plan!” Dean shouted in irritation, making Castiel roll his eyes.   
  
“We didn’t even bring gear,” Sam said quietly, his eyes searching the woods in worry. “Where are we?”  
  
“There’s a building up ahead,” Dean grumbled. “Guess we’ll figure it out soon.”  
  
They stepped out of the path that led to a town. Buildings and houses peppered the stretch of land ahead of them with the faint impression of roads running through the town, long ago covered in dust.   
  
They passed by several silent, dusty houses, turning onto a Main Street. A bar in the center of town bore a large wooden sign reading, ‘Gunnison’s Brew’.  
  
“Ohhh...” Charlie said darkly, looking around with a new level of worry.  
  
“Are you familiar with Gunnison?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Um, sort of? It’s mostly rumors, really, but my mom told me that Gunnison formed around a coal mine over 50 years ago. Leviathan mined coal and sold it to werewolves and witches. Creatures that needed warmth in the long cold winters. And then these creatures that were burrowed under the town came and started taking the Leviathan.”  
  
“What kind of monster can kill a Leviathan?” Sam asked incredulously.  
  
“Bisaan. They come out every 27 years and mate like crazy, turning the mate into a Bisaan.”  
  
“Sex monsters,” Dean huffed. “Frickin’ yay.”  
  
“Anyway,” Charlie went on, “it freaked the Leviathan out since, ya know, nothing else hurts them. They left, deserting the town.”  
  
“So, it’s a ghost town,” Sam said, stepping toward the broken door of the bar. Dean snagged Sam’s sleeve, stopping him.   
  
“Still doesn’t explain why we’re here. And where is Gunnison exactly?”  
  
“North,” Charlie said. “Like, far north. This is the furthest town north in Purgatory.”  
  
Castiel’s hopes soared. “We’re close to The Sunken Ties then! All we have to do is walk there and find nephilim to help us cross!”  
  
  
  
*********************************************  
  
  
  
On high alert, they began heading out of town when they heard a noise from behind them. They all darted between two buildings. Pressed against the wood siding, hidden from view, Dean peeked around the corner. From the direction of the path they had come on, three men strode into the town, behind them, Michael strode just as self-assured as the others. Dean turned, seeing Castiel’s eyes widen at the sight. Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulder, holding a finger over his own lips in silence. Sam grabbed his other shoulder, shaking his head no. Castiel huffed, his mouth pressing into a firm line of frustration.  
  
“We’ll follow them,” Dean mouthed barely audible.  
  
They watched as the group of four crossed the street, heading by them, crossing the small desolate town. They crept as silently between the buildings, watching them cross the next street, losing sight of them.   
  
They followed as closely as they could until the men passed into a gate with large walls surrounding something. The gates closed, leaving the four of them to stare at high wooden and stone walls.  
  
“What is this?” Dean asked.  
  
“No idea,” Charlie answered quietly. “Unless...”  
  
“Unless what?” Sam coaxed.  
  
“Wait here.”  
  
Before he, Sam, or Cas could stop her, the quick witch slipped through the few trees, silently running along the fence until she could see between two boards. She stood there watching for several long moments before she turned and dashed back between two houses.  
  
Losing sight of her, they ran back to their original hiding spot alongside the bar.  
  
“Here she comes,” Castiel said quietly. They waited for her to rejoin them.  
  
Charlie ducked between the buildings, puffing to catch her breath. “It’s a farm. There are people fenced into groups. They have the mine open again and they’re using the people as workers. Michael went in like he owned the place. And...if Leviathan are running the camp, then the people aren’t just being used as workers.”  
  
“They’re eating them,” Dean said tightly.  
  
“We have to do something!” Sam said.  
  
“We need to leave,” Castiel argued. “The four of us don’t stand a chance against a camp full of Leviathan AND Michael.”  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a frustrated look.  
  
“He’s right,” Charlie cut in before the brothers could argue. “We need Gabriel. We need to fix the wards. Then they can just fly all those people out of there.”  
  
“Agreed,” Castiel insisted.  
  
Begrudgingly, Sam and Dean followed them with a last look toward the camp.  
  
  
  
************************************************  
  
  
  
Dean staggered to his knees, dropping his sword to the ground as a Leviathan fell to the ground, his head rolling away from his body. Black Leviathan blood was splattered across his face, making it difficult to see as another Leviathan raced toward him, head splitting into a huge mouth as a blade sliced across its neck and it dropped dead to the ground. Charlie’s sword arm dropped to her side as she wiped blood from her face, turning to see if there were more. Dean got to his feet, searching the thinning woods for more signs of them. Sam and Cas backed up to them, searching the woods.  
  
“I think we got them all,” Cas managed, his breath still puffing hard from a long fight with a large pack of Leviathan.   
  
“Did any get away?” Sam asked.  
  
“I don’t think so, but I can smell the sea already. We’re close,” Cas answered.  
  
Dean sheathed his sword, wiping a sleeve over his face to get rid of the disgusting blood. “Bastards are fast.”  
  
Cas waved the dead corpses away, trying to cover their trail. They had walked all day and late into the night. It was dark, but there was nowhere safe to stop, so they just kept moving.  
  
“I smell fish,” Charlie complained, wrinkling her nose.  
  
“We’re almost there,” Cas coaxed. “I can hear the ocean.”  
  
They traipsed onward, trying to walk as silently as possible along the overgrown trail. It couldn’t even be called a road. And as much as Dean wished they had horses; he was glad Impala wasn’t trying to fight her way through this. They had fought off several bands of Leviathan along their travel, and several stretches of the trail were rocky downhill paths that looked like they had not seen travelers in a long time. Then there were stretches of marshy land that barely seemed firm enough to walk on.   
  
They descended out of another rocky downhill path, arriving at a wide-open expanse of dirt and scrub grass.  
  
Castiel made an orb of light that floated above them like their own personal moon. It cast harsh shadows and didn’t always help with their footing, but without it, they would have had to stop long ago.  
  
The sound of crashing waves met their ears and the stench of sea was thicker on the air. The wide-open space around them made all of them nervous. There was nowhere to hide at this point.  
  
Dean stared down at his footing as the marshy ground and long scrub grass gave way to sand. They moved forward much slower, hearing waves beat against the shore somewhere close in the vast blackness ahead of them.  
  
They all stopped, watching as Cas sent the orb of light ahead until black waves could be seen racing toward the land and sliding up the sand, leaving wet marks behind as it retreated and came sliding forward again.  
  
Fear charged Dean’s nerves, making him grip the handle of his sword. The ocean was deadly. Nothing but death lay in front of them. Even monsters couldn’t survive the cursed sea life.  
  
“Look!” Castiel shouted, pointing to the west. They all turned, looking left up the shoreline. Another orb glowed.  
  
“What is that?” Dean asked.  
  
“It isn’t fire light,” Sam said quietly. “Is it another sprite?”  
  
Castiel made his orb flash three times. He grinned wide when the distant orb blinked three times as well. “It is another nephilim!”  
  
They followed Cas along the sand, keeping an eye on the rocky cliffs beside them. They walked for quite some time, their calves burning in the unsteady, sifting sand under their feet. Dean could feel sand working its way into his boots and grate annoyingly against his feet.  
  
“Who goes there?” Came a stern male voice from the night as they finally neared the other orb.  
  
“I am Castiel, Legion of Thursday.”  
  
The nephilim had been walking toward them, finally coming into the light of his own orb. “Castiel? I have not seen you in years!”  
  
Castiel was grinning as he came to a stop a few paces from the sprite. “Ishim. It has been a long time.”  
  
“It has,” Ishim said suavely, his eyes traveling over the three humans. “Are you bringing your own Eligibles for your Creation party?” He chuckled.  
  
“No. We’re trying to get back to Haven. We need passage across the water.”  
  
Ishim studied the group with some suspicion. “Are they approved by Michael? You know he has to approve all humans now.”  
  
“Of course,” Castiel said slowly, but Dean suspected Cas didn’t know what Ishim was talking about. “Just when did that start, anyway?”  
  
Ishim shrugged. “Been like that since I got this post a year ago.” His orb hovered over to each of them as he inspected their faces. Dean squinted at the bright light as it hovered close to him, then moved back to Ishim.  
  
“I’ll take you to my house. I live on a sand barge just over the border.” He motioned to a barge-style boat that was anchored to a dock they had not noticed in the darkness.  
  
“Thank you, that would be most kind,” Castiel nodded, following the man onto the wide, flat boat. Dean hated this place. Not just the ocean. The reminder everywhere that the world had once been different. The sea had been clean in ancient times. When angels had not sunk the earth so no one could cross. And there were hardly any monsters. It must have been so peaceful.  
  
He relaxed when Cas slipped his hand into his, intertwining their fingers. His nervous, rolling stomach relaxed and he sighed, remaining quiet. Mostly, he was just tired, but he could also tell that the sprite, Ishim, didn’t like humans much. He looked at them like they were livestock moving through.  
  
Ishim tied the boat to a dock, stepping onto a narrow strip of land.  
  
“We’ll have to wait until morning to go the rest of the way,” Ishim explained. “We don’t risk the sea at night. The tide rises too high and the shallows become too difficult to gauge on that side of the track. But you can stay with me tonight.”  
  
“That is most kind,” Castiel nodded, waving them onward.  
  
Dean knew better than to ask any questions. Sprites’ hearing was too good to sneak a conversation. Instead, he followed along as Ishim and Cas walked.  
  
By the time they reached Ishim’s house, they were all exhausted. The two orbs lit the way well enough. There was little to look at as they seemed swallowed by the black night. Ishim’s house was a stone cottage sitting in the middle of the island. It was built high on stone pillars with a wooden fenced area to the side.  
  
“It’s so rare I get humans anymore,” Ishim said, stopping in front of the house. “Do you want them to stay inside?”  
  
Castiel frowned at him. “Of course.”  
  
Ishim shrugged, heading up a set of wooden steps. Dean exchanged a tight look with Sam and Charlie. Sprites were so strange.  
  
Castiel let his orb of light evaporate to the night as Ishim did. They went inside, Ishim lighting several lanterns with a wave of his hand. Dean did not want to stay here. There was something very disconcerting about the way Ishim talked about them, never to them. If Dean wasn’t so damn tired, he would have said a lot more.  
  
“Why do they have weapons?” Ishim asked as he studied them closer in the light.  
  
“We traveled far,” Castiel said, still looking stiff and guarded. “They are good fighters.”  
  
Ishim grinned, but it was calculating and thoughtful, feeling dangerous to Dean.   
  
“You said Michael usually takes the humans he chooses as Eligibles?” Cas asked.  
  
“I don’t think I did say that,” Ishim grinned. “But yeah, he does.”  
  
“When was the last time humans approached from the wild to be taken across?” Cas asked, squinting harder.  
  
Ishim laughed short. “I’ve never met any wild ones. All the ones I’ve seen were farmed.”  
  
Castiel swallowed, a look settling over his face.  
  
Ishim turned to the three of them. “Put your weapons and bags in the corner. Then go in there.” Ishim pointed to a closed door that had a lock on the outside of it.  
  
They all looked at Cas. How far were they taking this little charade? Cas nodded his head once, mouth tight.  
  
Dean glared at Ishim, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t giving up his weapons.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel said sternly, shocking Dean into staring at him.  
  
Dean snapped his jaw shut, biting back the insults on his tongue. He unbuckled his sword belt, propping his sword in the corner. Even Cas got a scathing glare as Dean turned toward the door, wrenching it open. Sam and Charlie did the same, following him inside the little room. There were no windows, no rugs, and no lanterns or candles. A mattress lay on the floor and a bucket sat in the corner.  
  
This was a prison cell.  
  
A slave cell.  
  
He turned back to the door as Ishim closed it, locking it.  
  
“What the fuck?” Sam whispered.  
  
“This is bad,” Charlie hissed.  
  
Dean agreed, whole heartedly. He had never done anything so stupid as to give up his weapons and allow himself to be locked into a room. His dad would have plenty to say about this. He hoped his dad never found out. Shame burned hot on his cheeks. If he just allowed himself to be put into such a compromising position (and Sam AND Charlie), there better be a good fucking reason for it.  
  
“I still have three knives,” Sam whispered.  
  
“I have one. And some confusion dust,” Charlie added.  
  
Dean relaxed a little. He still had three knives on himself. They were lucky Ishim had not demanded a more thorough search of weapons.  
  
“Guys,” Dean whispered, “it’s Cas. He’s never gonna let us get taken as...” slaves? breeders? Oh...what had they just gotten into. “He’ll take care of it. We gotta get across the Ties. Cas must need him. Otherwise, he never woulda let this happen.”  
  
“Did you see the pen outside?” Charlie asked. “That’s for humans. From farms. This guy is definitely a Michael fan.”  
  
“Unless he doesn’t know what’s going on in Haven,” Sam suggested.  
  
“Well then he’s just a douchebag,” Dean snapped. “Either way, he’s a dick.”  
  
  
  
****************************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel felt nauseous as Ishim closed the door, sliding the lock shut as if it were normal to lock people into a room. Ishim gave him a grin as he held an open hand out in invitation for him to sit in one of the plush chairs that faced a large window facing the ocean. It may be a lovely view during the day, but now it only afforded him a macabre view of darkness.  
  
“I was getting ready to go in for the night when I saw your light,” Ishim grinned, handing Castiel a glass of wine.  
  
He immediately thought of Dean. He had never tried wine and he wished he could give him some. He took it, forcing a bit of a smile in thanks.  
  
“I heard you were Mage of Thursday. Congratulations.”  
  
Castiel nodded. His news must be outdated. If that were the case, it was more likely that he had no idea anyone was raising an army against Michael, let alone he were involved.   
  
“Always knew you’d go far. You always were powerful.” Ishim’s eyes roved over Castiel. They had known each other at school. Ishim was interning at Tree of Knowledge when Castiel was just younger. Ishim had always paid him special attention and at one point in time, he had certainly had a crush on the older man. But he was not encouraging that.  
  
“When was the last time you had someone cross the Ties?” Castiel asked, evading any compliments.  
  
Ishim sipped his wine, staring out the dark window. “I do get visitors from The Garden. But I haven’t seen humans crossing since I first started this post a year ago.”  
  
Castiel frowned. “Really? Do you not find that odd?”  
  
Ishim chuckled, settling back in his seat. “No. Michael handles the humans. He’s convinced we used to get poor quality humans with the ones who straggled in needing safe refuge. Now the humans are much better quality, being trained and bred properly. It should have been done years ago.”  
  
A cold chill ran through Castiel. “Have you been to the farm?”  
  
“No. I stay at my post. It’s my duty. I’ll be glad when I’m finished with my stint as ocean watcher. It really is a dreadful, boring post.” He swirled what little wine he had left in his glass as his eyes lingered on Castiel too long. “I have no interest in breeding with a human anyway. They’re so beastly. I suppose you have no choice, do you? Being Mage suits you, Castiel. You reek of power.”  
  
Castiel had to fight his urge to let his wings out and smite the cold-hearted bastard where he sat. But murder was a serious offense.  
  
“I think I’ll be turning in. I’m afraid it was a very long day,” Castiel said shortly, sitting his untouched wine on the table between their chairs.  
  
They both stood. “My guest room is through that door,” he pointed. “But you’re quite welcome to share my bed.”  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes at Ishim. He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell him how rude and callous he was. But he needed across the ocean and had no idea how to cross it otherwise.  
  
“I’ll be staying with my...humans.”  
  
“What?” Ishim laughed.  
  
“I am quite protective of them. I’m quite sure one of them will be my mate. I just haven’t decided which one yet,” he lied. “And they will stay in the guest room with me.”  
  
Ishim sighed with a shrug. “Suit yourself. We can leave after morning tide recedes.”  
  
Castiel grinned, walking to the locked door. He slid the lock open, unsurprised by the wary and angry looks on his friend’s faces. “Come, all of you. It is time for bed.”  
  
They all moved out of the room slowly, crossing the main room and followed him to the guest room, where they filed inside and Castiel shut the door. He lit a lantern and immediately turned an apologetic look on them. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed.  
  
Dean and Sam merely raised an eyebrow. Charlie looked mollified.  
  
“You all take the bed,” Castiel whispered, pointing to the large bed. He pulled his own sword belt off, propping it in the corner and slid down the door to sit on the floor against it.  
  
They all removed their boots, Charlie and Sam getting into the bed.  
  
“I think we can all fit,” Dean said quietly.  
  
Castiel shook his head no. “I don’t trust him,” he whispered.  
  
Dean sat next to him on the floor with a sigh.  
  
Castiel stared at the foot of the bed. “He’s a Michael supporter. Though I think he knows little of what Michael is doing. Either way, he is our enemy.”  
  
Dean wove his arm around Castiel’s and leaned his head on his shoulder. Castiel closed his eyes in relief that Dean did not judge him for the actions of Ishim. He turned his head, kissing Dean’s hair. “I am so sorry.”  
  
“S not your fault,” Dean whispered.  
  
He squeezed Dean’s arm in appreciation. “You should sleep in the bed.”  
  
“Only if you do,” Dean murmured, half asleep already.  
  
Castiel did not trust that Ishim would not do something during the night. And he was very tired. If he slept through something horrible happening, he would never forgive himself. He stayed put.  
  
“I love you, Dean.”  
  
“Love you too.”  
  
  
*****************************************************  
  
  
Dean’s mouth began to water unpleasantly as soon as he stepped onto the barge. Ishim stood at the helm of the odd ship, powering it across the water by magic. He sat on one of the long benches, noticing rings on the decking. He wondered if the rings were for shackles.  
  
Salty air gusted across them as water sprayed up occasionally. It was warmer here than in Lebanon, but it was still damp and chilly.  
  
“Cas,” Sam said quietly, getting the sprite’s attention. He nodded toward Dean.  
  
Dean hadn’t said a word, but if he felt as green as he looked, he would be puking soon. Cas took notice of Dean’s plight and sat on the bench next to him, taking his hand. A rush of cool relief soothed his stomach and eased his tense muscles. He squeezed Cas’ hand back in thanks, exchanging a smile. Cas leaned forward, kissing his forehead.  
  
Ishim gave Castiel another suspicious glance but said nothing. It took several hours to cross the strange ocean. The water was a beautiful shade of blue. Sometimes you could see the bottom. And they often saw fish and other sea creatures pass around and beneath them, keeping them in a constant state of alertness.   
  
They all watched anxiously as land came into view, sandy at the shore but lush grass could be seen, and trees and hilltops beyond that.  
  
They reached the shore of Haven at a slow, steady pace. A sprite greeted them, seeming to know Ishim well.  
  
“Good day,” the sprite called from a dock that matched the one in front of Ishim’s house.  
  
“Good day,” Ishim returned. The two men worked quickly to secure the barge to the dock.  
  
They stepped onto land and Dean hoped, again, he never had to cross more than a river in his lifetime. The sun shined warmly on them, a light breeze making the strange trees with lengthy bowing branches and narrow, long leaves sway gently. Their trunks were tall and narrow with all the branches sprouting out of the top like a burst of greenery. The air smelled better already, still salty from the ocean, but fresh and clean with something sweet.  
  
“Welcome to Haven,” Castiel smiled.  
  
Dean, Sam, and Charlie exchanged nervous looks. Haven. Dean had never even dreamed of coming here. It was such a place of mystery to him that he had no idea what to expect, making him nervous and guarded. He nodded with a quick grin at Cas.  
  
“Benjamin, this is Castiel, Mage of Thursday,” Ishim introduced. “He will need transport to...” Ishim turned to Cas. “Are you headed to The Garden or Tree of Knowledge?”  
  
Castiel hesitated, seeing the look on Benjamin’s face change.   
  
“You really should stay more informed,” Benjamin said tightly, drawing his sword to point it at Cas, who drew his own. Ishim narrowed his eyes at Cas but couldn’t reach for his sword since Dean had his blade already drawn and parked neatly under his chin.  
  
“Traitor!” Benjamin snarled at Cas.  
  
“By whose word am I considered a traitor?” Cas growled back; their blades poised for battle.  
  
“By Michael himself!” Benjamin yelled.  
  
“Stay back!” Sam yelled, seeing two more sprites coming toward them from near Benjamin’s house.  
  
“Throw your sword on the ground,” Dean ordered, pressing his blade to Ishim’s throat, forcing the man to tilt his head upward.  
  
“Michael is the traitor,” Cas said firmly. “He is working with demons!”  
  
“Only to purify the humans!” Benjamin said, shaking his head in irritation. “Better humans mean stronger nephilim. He is helping our kind.”  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes. “That goes against the Treaty of the Peoples, Benjamin. All nephilim know that.”  
  
“Then where are the humans?” One of the nephilim near the trees yelled, getting an irate glare from the other. “Humans so rarely come to Haven anymore! They used to trickle in from Purgatory. Now they rarely come at all, and when they do, they arrive like slaves!”  
  
Cas looked from the nephilim to Benjamin. “Is that true?”  
  
“Well...yes. But Michael fixes them.”  
  
“Fixes them?” Dean said in disgust, kicking Ishim’s dropped sword away. “Fixes them how?”  
  
“He brainwashes them!” The sprite up the hill said.  
  
“Shut up, Akobel!” The other yelled, drawing a sword to point at the well-dressed sprite with long, dirty-blonde hair.  
  
“Mirabel, you know it’s true,” Akobel said, drawing his own sword.  
  
“What the fuck,” Dean muttered, this whole situation blowing up so damn fast he could hardly keep up.  
  
“Humans are half of who we are,” Cas said sternly, re-gripping his sword. “Michael is -”  
  
“Blasphemer!” Benjamin yelled, lunging toward Cas.   
  
Ishim took Dean’s distraction to elbow him hard to the gut, making Dean double over, losing his hold on the man. Ishim stumbled forward for his sword, which Charlie stepped on and Dean stabbed him through the back, killing him. He looked up to see Castiel standing over Benjamin’s dead body, sword bloody. Up the hill, Mirabel lay dead, Akobel covering his mouth and nose with his elbow as he staggered back a step in shock, dropping his own sword to the ground.  
  
Dean, Cas, and Akobel exchanged looks, seeing what each had done. Cas stared down at Ishim with a hollow look. He turned to Akobel, walking up the hill as the man came down toward him.  
  
“Castiel,” Akobel said miserably, upset at what he had had to do. He knelt on one knee; head bowed to his wrist.  
  
“Please,” Cas said quietly. “I am no longer Mage of Thursday.”  
  
Dean frowned. He exchanged a confused look with Charlie and Sam. Was this another trick of some sort?  
  
“Samandriel is now Mage of Thursday. I am just another soldier, fighting this war that Michael has started.”  
  
Akobel’s eyes widened as he stood, staring at Cas in awe. “It’s true then! We are at war. News travels slowly down here. There has been so much talk of war! Five of the seven have declared war on Michael!”  
  
“Five?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Well, Raguel, Mage of Friday has declared themselves neutral. They will not fight.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Any word on where Gabriel is?”  
  
“Michael has boasted that he has Gabriel. I hoped that were not true. I don’t know where he could be, Your Highness.”  
  
Cas looked down as Dean, Sam, and Charlie neared the two sprites.  
  
“So, why are you defending humans?” Dean asked, trying to understand what exactly happened a few minutes ago.  
  
Akobel looked between him and Cas. “Living at Sunken Ties gives us a unique perspective on human travelers coming into Haven. For the past thirty years, hardly any humans are coming through. It’s disturbing. I brought my concerns to the council, but I get no answers. Then Mirabel and Benjamin arrived just as we are hearing talk about war. They are Mondays and I have suspected since their arrival that they are up to something. When they arrived, Michael was seen in the area. I think he was traveling to Purgatory. When he would come ashore here, he would have humans shackled like prisoners. When I asked about it, I was threatened to keep quiet or they would kill Lily and May. It’s not safe here anymore, Castiel. I have been happily married to my wife, Lily, for quite some time. She and our daughter May rarely leave the house anymore for fear of discrimination!”  
  
“Isn’t half the country human?” Sam asked.  
  
“Not half. A quarter, maybe,” Akobel explained.  
  
“Less than that in the Trees,” Castiel noted.  
  
“So...where are all the children coming from?” Charlie asked.  
  
“That’s just it,” Castiel sighed. “The number of children has severely declined over the past thirty years. Billie asked Michael about it, but he wiped her memory and found a way out of Haven. That’s what part of this war is about, Michael controlling humans so only Mondays can have children while the rest of the legions die out. He has no respect or love for humans, only their part in creating nephilim.”  
  
“What do we do about the bodies?” Charlie asked.  
  
Castiel looked down at Mirabel. He shook his head, waving a hand. The bodies and blood disappeared. “They’re in the woods. It won’t be long before they are discovered. We need to get out of here. You too, Akobel.” The sprite nodded, turning back to the woods.  
  
“Just a moment,” Castiel said. His brow furrowed and he disappeared. They all stepped back, hoping this meant Cas could now fly.  
  
He reappeared with a grin. “I can fly here.”  
  
“Good,” Dean sighed, his feet thankful they had less of a walk ahead of them today.   
  
“I’ll take Akobel home. Wait here.”  
  
Cas turned to Akobel. “Picture your home clearly in your mind.” Akobel nodded, closing his eyes. Cas touched his temple, nodding once, placed his hand on the sprite’s shoulder and they were gone.  
  
“Wow. He learns new tricks all the time!” Charlie exclaimed with a grin.  
  
Dean stepped back, looking around at the odd trees again.   
  
“Dean,” Sam said, following him. “If Dad got wind of this -”  
  
“It is what it is, Sam. There are bad sprites and good sprites. Like people. What if all the sprites based their opinions of people on someone like...Samuel.”  
  
Sam winced. “They probably would have let us be overrun.”  
  
“Someone is coming,” Charlie said quietly, looking up the shore. Dean and Sam headed up the hill, stepping onto the path Akobel had come on. They stood quietly just off the path amongst the smooth barked trees as two men came closer slowly.   
  
Castiel appeared on the hill, glancing around.  
  
“Cas!” Dean whispered, waving him up to the path. As he climbed the hill, he noticed the two sprites coming closer. He jogged the last few steps, joining them.  
  
“I took Akobel and his family to Tree of Knowledge. They’ll be safe there,” Cas explained.  
  
“Nice. Now, where are WE going?” Dean asked.  
  
“Tree of Knowledge. I’ll be picking up soldiers. We’ll take them to The Garden and leave them there to protect the wards. Then...Michael’s palace. Perhaps Gabriel is there.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said in a rush. “How ‘bout we go now.”  
  
Castiel paid the approaching sprites no mind. “I am looking forward to showing you my city. It is much more hospitable than what you have seen so far.”  
  
“Well,” Dean grinned, “if I don’t have to kill anybody in the first ten minutes, it’s a step up from this place.”  
  
  



	24. Amongst The Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Gabriel brings them closer to Michael.
> 
> I want to take a moment and point out that I extended this fic again, expecting it to be around 30 chapters.
> 
> I also want to remind all my lovely readers that there are tag warnings for up coming events. Main character death, violence, and high stress situations. If you can hang in there for the wild ride, I promise you’ll be glad you did!
> 
> Now...let’s see what adventure awaits them in Haven.

Chapter 24: Amongst The Trees

Dean stared out the window, watching sprites of every size and build walk up and down the streets. He was in a foreign country. A new land. Was he exploring new forests? Tasting foreign food? Site seeing? No. He was in a friggin’ library. A huge library, he’d give Haven that. But The Stacks would not have even made his top ten list of places to tour. Yet, here he was. Sam and Charlie were happier than pigs in shit. You woulda thought every new book they pulled off the shelves was made of gold. Or pie. Damn, he was hungry.

Cas had gone off with another sprite to do sprite shit. Everyone was up in arms when they first arrived, desperate to know where Gabriel was. A bunch of sprites in bright green robes were panicking. Cas had explained that the green-robed sprites were special council members that worked close to the mages. It was all kind of confusing and he just nodded and followed the mousy looking sprite to the friggin’ library like Cas had asked.

From his high vantage point, Dean could see some of Tree of Knowledge. The streets were smooth cobblestone, and though they were wide enough for two wagons to pass, he had yet to see any. Carting goods around must be a human thing. Sprites must use magic to just poof stuff where they wanted it. The capital building, which he could see further down the road, was bigger than any building Dean had ever seen or imagined. He stared at the walls, wondering how it was structured to support such height.

All the buildings were made of stone that was so smooth, it looked like it shot straight up from the ground and had always been that way. Their facades and roofs were mostly white, gray, blue, or red in color, giving the town a formal, neat appearance. 

“The place is usually a bit more lively,” Metatron explained, stepping up to him with a glass. “Here. Castiel asked me to bring you this.”

Dean took the glass. It felt so fragile in his hand. Glass cups were only used on the most formal of occasions in Lawrence. Most people didn’t own any and had never even used them. Dean tried to act like this was normal, like having something so fragile was just common. “What is this?” The drink was a deep red color.

Metatron’s jaw dropped. “OH right!” He swung his gaze to take in Charlie and Sam, standing at a nearby table, pouring over books. “You’ve never had wine!”

“What’s wine?” Sam asked, both of them looking curious as Metatron handed them glasses as well.

“What is wine?!” Metatron grinned, head arching back in revelry. “Wine is the nectar of the gods!” He proclaimed it like they should be throwing a damn party. “I forgot that Chamuel, a Monday angel, took grapes from all the other countries before the people all divided. She was persnickety like that, apparently, saying grapes and wine were only for the heavenly host.”

Dean gave him a flat look.

“Hey! It wasn’t us! That was long before the Treaty of the Peoples. Try it!” Metatron grinned.

“Well, Chamuel was a bitch,” Charlie piped in. “This is delicious!”

Dean tried the wine. It was...heavy, fruity with hints of oak and left a dry taste in his mouth. He took another sip. “It’s okay. Grapes are better.”

Metatron scoffed, looking disappointed in him. He turned to Sam. “Well?”

Sam shrugged, taking another drink. “It’s okay. I like beer better.”

“Beer!” Metatron blurted. He waved them all off. “Apes,” he mumbled, walking away.

Dean exchanged a shrug with Sam. He didn’t know what an ape was, but it seemed like an insult.

Charlie finished hers with a grin. “Remind me to look up that recipe!” Sam offered her his drink and she took it with a wide grin.

Dean sipped his wine again, looking back out the window. He felt like he needed to understand Tree of Knowledge. This was Cas’ home. 

Someday it might be his.

**********************************************************

Castiel rushed up the steps to the Stacks, Samandriel and half his abbetors in tow. “All of Knowledge has been searched,” Samandriel repeated. 

“I won’t be staying here,” Castiel said, pushing his way into one of the many reference rooms.

Sam and Charlie looked up from stacks of books as Metatron stepped back from Dean, who looked perturbed by the man. He had probably been hounding Dean with questions about human life.

Dean’s shoulders relaxed as he freed himself from Metatron’s attention.

“I found a fascinating spell book!” Charlie grinned, holding up a leather bound book.

“Wonderful,” Castiel grinned tightly. “Take it with you. We need to go.”

“Do you know where he is?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly,” Castiel admitted, “but I have a good idea.”

“I could send troops with you,” Samandriel offered. 

“No. I’m afraid we will need stealth more than muscle on this mission,” Castiel countered. “But have them ready for battle.”

Samandriel nodded.

“While I have you both here, I would like to introduce you two.” Castiel stepped closer to Dean. “Samandriel, Mage of Thursday, Angel’s Son, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my half-brother, Samandriel.”

Dean glanced around as Charlie and Sam bowed, Metatron already having his head bowed. He grinned at the sprite, slightly thrown off as he always was with formalities. He nodded his head, bowing slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

Samandriel stepped forward with a sweet smile. “Dean, it is wonderful to meet you. Castiel has told me some about you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes in question, his gaze sliding over to Castiel. “What’s with the title? I thought that was your title.”

Castiel flushed slightly. He should have explained exactly what had happened on his first trip back to Haven. They had just been so busy. But mostly he just wanted to avoid the whole subject.

“Castiel has stepped down from being Mage of Thursday,” Samandriel explained. “It seems his love for you has usurped his duty as a mage.”

Dean’s mouth parted, looking at Castiel with question. “What? When?”

“Well, I received the title when we thought Castiel was dead. When he returned, I offered it back, but...”. Samandriel smiled, letting the rest speak for itself.

“Cas!” Dean pulled him aside. “What the hell?”

Castiel swallowed nervously. “If you won’t return to Tree of Knowledge with me...if I can not meet my duties...”

Dean’s shock faded to worry. “I didn’t mean for you to lose your...throne, or whatever!”

“It is more than that, Dean. If I can not fulfill my duties, and I won’t jeopardize what we have in order to do that, then the title should rightfully pass to someone who is willing.”

Dean shook his head, stepping back to glance at Samandriel. “You can’t -“

“Dean,” Castiel said firmly. “We’ll speak of this another time. For now, this is what is best. For everyone.” He tried to convey with just a look how certain he was of what he had done. He pushed his emotions forward, conveying his honest contentment with his new station.

Dean blinked several time, feeling the rush until he held a hand up with a more relaxed look. Dean waved a finger between the two of them and Castiel pulled his emotions back, listening to Dean’s. A rush of ‘we need to talk, we will talk about this, and worry, pushed forth. He nodded, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you!” Charlie beamed.

“You as well,” Samandriel grinned. “And you are?”

“Oh! I’m Charlie. Charlie Bradbury. Witch and huge fan of Castiel.”

Samandriel grinned at her.

“This is Sam, my brother,” Dean added, Sam glancing up and bobbing a bow again.

“Sam. Thank you. All of you, for showing kindness to Castiel when he was among strangers. He has spoken of all of you with such kind regard. It gladdens my heart to know he has friends among all sorts of people.”

“Well, it’s nice to know all the sprites aren’t dicks,” Dean grinned. “I mean, besides Cas.”

Castiel fought a grin. He did love Dean so. As mouthy as he continued to be.

Samandriel blinked, trying to make sense of Dean’s back-handed compliment.

“We should go,” Castiel interrupted. “Gabriel needs us.”

This spurred everyone into action. Charlie tucked the spellbook into her bag, Sam leaving the books with only a slight look of longing.

“Thank you, Metatron, for keeping them safe while I talked with the mages.”

“Of course!” Metatron grinned, clasping his hands in an almost groveling demeanor. “Please come visit again!”

“We will,” Sam and Charlie answered. Dean gave him a wave with a smirk and nodded at Samandriel.

“Good luck,” Samandriel said gravely.

Castiel glanced at the three, seeing they were ready to go. He summoned his grace easily, pulling his wings forth, flying them to Michael’s palace.

They landed along the road in front of the huge gray and black palace of Michael, Mage of Sunday. Huge banners hung from the walls with the words ‘Sunday’ and ‘Sword of Might’ in Enochian on them with golden suns.

“This is as close to Michael’s palace as I have ever been.”

“Wow,” Charlie gawked, “this place is...beautiful. The grass is so...green. The air so clean and the trees so full and perfect.”

“Are these streets?” Sam asked, turning in a circle as he stared down at the white and grey granite street they stood on.

“Yes,” Castiel hissed. “We should go. Our enemies surround us.” He began walking to the palace, the three joining him quickly.

“Everything is made of granite,” Dean muttered as all three of them stared around at the buildings, most with courtyards attached to them with benches and fountains of ornate, opulent designs.

Dean snagged his hand, letting the other two walk a few steps ahead of them. “Cas -“

“Dean,” he countered. “Now is not a good time.”

“Yeah? Well, we don’t get many of those. What happened? Why’d you give up your throne?”

Castiel sighed. “I do not have a throne. Or didn’t. Dean, for me to remain Mage of Thursday, I would have to take you away from your home. Your family. And the demands of baring children and you being my mate...”. He squeezed Dean’s hand, hoping he understood. “I could not ask you to live a life you are so clearly uncomfortable with. When we talked about it at Ellen’s apartment, you seemed quite adverse to it.”

Dean scoffed. “Give a guy a chance ta get used to something like that!”

Castiel frowned. “Am I wrong?”

Dean glanced around at the city. Tree of Thrones was very different than Lawrence. “Cas...I’ll do whatever I need to do. I mean...I can do the kid thing. I want kids. I never dreamed I’D be the one having them, but...”

Castiel grinned. “I appreciate your willingness. But...” he stopped, Dean stopping and turning to him. Castiel looked around at the sculpted bushes, trimmed lawns, perfectly smooth, granite streets. “I can not picture us here. Can you?”

Dean licked his lips, pressing them together before speaking very quietly and directly to him. “I can picture me with you. Everything else is just...background. I’m just sayin’, I’m open. I, I can’t let you lose everything just to stay with me. You’re...important, Cas! Powerful. A good man. I can’t rob a whole group of people from a good leader like that because I’m selfish. I...you should stay. You should be everybody’s boss!”

Castiel grinned sadly. “I understand what is important, Dean. You and me. This war. Helping people.”

Dean wanted to argue, but held his tongue, looking conflicted.

“Let’s just get Gabriel, if he’s still alive, and get back home,” Castiel suggested.

Dean glanced around again. “I could do it, Cas. I can be...proper, or whatever. I’ll talk better. Dress like you guys. I can make you proud.”

Castiel took Dean’s face in his hands, his heart breaking. “Oh, Dean! I have never been more proud than I am when I introduce you to those I know and love. I love you more than life itself! Don’t you know that? Haven’t I shown you?” He gasped slightly, fearful of how deeply Dean doubted himself. “I am more proud of you, my brave, strong warrior, than any of this! This country where life is easy and food is plentiful. Healing is easy and no one even notices there are no children?! What kind of a life would we have here? I love you. Just as you are. Just as you dress and talk so plainly.”

“Okay, Cas,” Dean tried to laugh, but an underlying note of true hurt burned through.

“Why would you think I’m not proud to be seen by your side?” He searched Dean’s face, needing to understand him.

“It’s not you.”

Castiel dropped one hand, both of them looking at Sam.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam said, “but it’s our dad. He’s told Dean that he’s no more than someone for you to conceive kids with.”

Charlie sucked her teeth in disgust.

Castiel turned back to Dean, whose eyes were lowered, a look of angry shame on his face.

“Dean,” Castiel said sternly, making him look at him.

Dean’s eyes darted, before he met Castiel’s eyes.

“Is that what you think?”

“No!” Dean swore. A look of shame dropped back to his face just as quickly. “I mean...it might be what everyone here thinks, but...”

Castiel frowned. “It is no wonder you do not trust me.” Castiel let his hand fall from Dean’s cheek. “With all that Michael is doing and after what Ishim did...” he shook his head in discouragement.

Dean sighed. “I trust you, Cas. I believe in us. And I shouldn’t care what the rest of the world thinks. I don’t care.”

“It’s your father,” Castiel said bitterly.

“Cas,” Sam said softly, “our dad is using you as a weapon. He plans to reinstate the Treaty of the Peoples. He called Dean -“

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean snapped.

“He should know,” Sam said, stepping closer. “He should know that Dad called you a whore. That Cas wants you for ‘breeding’.”

Dean turned away from the group, hands on his head in anger and probably embarrassment.

“Then that is my score to settle with John Winchester,” Castiel said angrily. “That angry, petty man is not going to destroy the best thing that has ever happened to me!”

“He’s not a bad man,” Sam said nervously, “he’s...he’s just not a very good dad. Sometimes. Mostly to Dean.”

Castiel seethed with anger inside. To Sam, he nodded his understanding. In his mind, he wondered just what sort of war he would start if he killed John the next time he saw him.

He could only handle so many battles at one time. He needed to see if Gabriel was still alive. Then he could figure out the rest. He stormed down the road toward the palace. 

“Um, Cas?” Charlie asked, jogging to keep up with his new pace. “Do we have, like, a plan?”

“Find Gabriel,” Castiel said bitterly. Then kill John Winchester.

“I could make a tracking item, if you have anything of his,” she offered.

“There’s no time for that. I will find him faster by flying.”

“Okay, but what if Michael has wards up.”

Castiel glared at her.

“It was just a thought, Jeez,” Charlie frowned, going back to a walk.

Castiel stopped, turning back to Charlie. “My apologies, Charlie.” Dean gripped his wrist, pulling him off the street and over to a topiary of extremely large violets, as Charlie and Sam continued down the road slowly.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Dean began quickly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dean. You simply fell victim to the bullying of a short-sighted man who has the added clout of being your father.”

Several expressions crossed Dean’s face before he settled for a sigh. 

“We really need to go,” Castiel argued.

“Not until we’re good, Cas,” Dean said with a real note of defeat. “I do believe in us, Cas. You have to know that.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I do, love. I do.”

“And I know you don’t think of me as a slave or a whore or -“

“Please, don’t even say those words,” Castiel whispered, hating to hear them.

“The point is, I know you don’t think of me that way. And that’s all that matters.”

Castiel hated that his people had done this at all. But for now, for this moment, he had to take the peace offering Dean was giving him. He took Dean’s face into his hands again, kissing him like he had meant to do earlier. It was quick and deep and said so much more than the words they could say aloud. Nothing in the world could stop a love like this. Not even the hateful words of a father. 

*****************************************

Dean felt more on edge than he thought he would as they passed into Michael’s palace. Cas had said it was not as open and public as any of the other palaces. Not that Dean knew any better. For all he knew, they were all cold, hard boxes of marble, granite, and stone. 

If him and Cas had a palace someday, it was gonna be way cooler than this. So far, all he had seen were white marble, black granite, gray slate, quartz so big he could dance on it, hallways, square rooms, and uppity looking sprites that all looked so damn serious their heads might crack if they tried to grin. 

They kept their own heads down and looked busy as they passed room after room on the first floor, which was the only floor open to the public. 

“Cas, does this place have a basement?” Dean asked. “If I were gonna hide a body, that’s where I’d put it.”

Cas turned to him with a puzzled look. “Good to know.”

“Dude...I was just sayin’.”

“Yes, I heard you say it,” Cas whispered after they passed a pair of tight-lipped ladies in long gowns.

Dean and Charlie exchanged a look. She tended to find his brand of logic as adorable as Dean did.

After passing a large crowd of sprites heading toward a dining hall, Charlie pulled Cas into an empty sitting room. The four of them stepped inside, closing the door.

“We can’t keep walking around. Someone is going to catch on to us,” Charlie said expectantly.

“I can not stay in here,” Castiel frowned.

“He probably isn’t keeping Gabriel on the floor that’s open to the public, Cas,” Sam frowned.

“Just...hear me out,” Charlie said, holding a hand up. “If Gabriel is here, we’re close. So, try to...feel for him.”

Cas frowned, his mouth drawn in confusion.

“Just close your eyes and search with your mind. Search for...grace or Gabriel or a hidden area. See if something just sticks out to you.”

Cas nodded, seeming to follow her logic somewhat. He took a breath and breathed out slow, closing his eyes. His head tipped down and then up toward the ceiling.

“I feel...nothing.” Castiel’s eyes opened with a frustrated sigh.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Try again. Take your time. Quiet your mind and...search.”

Cas glanced at the door again, obviously wishing to go back to glancing in rooms again. He tipped his chin down, closing his eyes.

Sam and Dean exchanged questioning glances. Dean preferred to get back to searching too, but he waited. They were in a parlor. The walls were all smooth and white with paintings hanging on them, encased in gaudy gold frames with scenes of angels with swords looking powerful mid battle. Pedestals held figurines of angels. Dean had a serious notion to knock the nearest one to him to the floor, feeling sure that the shattered art would look better in pieces on the floor than the little slender, pretentious angel that stared at him with blank eyes. Couches of silver-blue sat opposite each other with a low table between them. Campbell Compound officially became his second least favorite building to be inside of. Through the large window, he could see vibrant green grass and oddly beautiful trees that were huge, full of thin branches that bowed over to the ground and were covered in pink flowers. Neat flower gardens trimmed every walkway and circled every tree. This place was beautiful. So, why didn’t he like it?

Castiel’s face crumpled into a hard frown of concentration. “Below us...there is a section that is...blocked.” He frowned harder yet. “I can not see what is down there.”

Charlie was nodding, not that Cas could see. His eyes were still squeezed shut.

“Michael!”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Michael’s here?” Dean asked, stepping closer to his sprite.

“Yes,” Cas said slowly as he kept focusing. “He is...upstairs. He is..plotting.” His eyes opened, fury burning in his ice cold blue irises.

“Focus on Gabriel,” Charlie encouraged. “He’s in danger, Cas. Find him.”

Castiel took his eyes away from the ceiling, looking at the witch with determination. He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration.

“Quit pushing him,” Dean frowned, whacking Charlie’s arm gently. “Yer gonna make him crap his pants.”

She shooed him away as Sam bit his lip, stifling a laugh.

Cas’ eyes popped open. “I can feel it. The entrance. And Gabriel knows I’m here.”

“Wow!” Charlie grinned, whacking Dean’s arm again. “See! I knew you could do it!”

“Let’s go,” Cas said gruffly, walking to the door so quickly that all three of them had to jump slightly to catch up.

They made their way quietly along a hall, cutting through a large, empty room that was dark. It looked like a ballroom from fairytale stories, their footsteps echoing softly around the cold walls. They followed Cas through a doorway, along a narrower hall that connected to another large, dark room. Dean couldn’t even imagine needing, let alone using so much space. He could smell food as they passed through a corridor. Several sprites passed them, giving them curious looks. At a crossroads of hallways, Cas stopped, closing his eyes in concentration. They all waited nervously until Cas suddenly took off at a brisk walk down one of the halls, his coat billowing out as he strode confidently. 

Dean guessed where Cas was headed. A door at the end of a dead-end hallway was oddly guarded by two stern-faced men.

Twenty paces from the door, one of the men held a hand out. “Stop. This is not a public section of-“

Cas waved a hand, the man gaping as he was flung against the wall, crumpling to the floor. The other man had pulled a sword out, starting toward Cas. Not even breaking stride, Cas clenched his fist, the man dropping instantly to the floor. His sword clattered loudly, attracting attention from sprites at the opposite end of the hall, who began yelling. Cas gripped the handle of the door but the door did not budge. Charlie attempted a quick spell, shaking her head in frustration. Cas took a determined breath, holding his palm out, light bursting from it. The door shook, spurring the sprites to a run toward them.

Dean and Sam turned, pulling their swords out, ready to take on the crowd. “Hurry up!” Dean shouted.

“I got it!” Charlie exclaimed, shouting another spell. The door burst open as Dean parried the first strike from the lead sprite. 

With the door open, Cas whirled around throwing his hand out, all the sprites whipping back the hall, sliding and knocking each other over. 

They rushed inside the door, Dean and Sam running down the steps that immediately met their feet as Cas and Charlie relocked the door with spells and some symbol Charlie hastily drew with a charcoal stick.

The four of them made their way down a winding staircase, spilling out into a labyrinth of hallways that Cas quickly took the lead and led them at a run.

They came across three pairs of sprites, Cas waving a hand, dropping all of them to the floor. “Damn,” Dean swore, seeing the third set of people slide down to the floor with solid thumps.

“They are sleeping,” Cas said distractedly, stopping to decide whether to go straight or to the right. Cas struck out at a run down the hall to the right, the three of them running to keep up.

“He’s here!” Cas yelled as they encountered several more sprites that must have been more powerful than the others. They threw blasts of blue-white light that Cas scrambled to block with his wings, shocking the sprites. Cas dropped his wings that had appeared so suddenly all of them had gasped, blasting them so fiercely that they were blown from where they stood, screaming at the blast that must have hurt tremendously.

Charlie said a spell, raising her hands as a sprite came at them from the side. The sprite screamed, holding her head before passing out and dropping to the floor.

The door that the sprites had been blocking now stood unguarded. Charlie made quick work of the lock, the door flinging open to reveal a poorly lit room. They rushed inside, finding Gabriel hanging from shackles that bolted into the walls.

“Cas!” Gabriel gasped, looking weak as he hung, wilting in the cuffs. 

They all halted a step away from Gabriel, taking in the state he was in. His head lifted, rolling slightly before falling to hang again. His clothes were torn and showed signs of bloody wounds on his chest and legs. His sleeves were torn, hanging in shreds to show bleeding cuts along his biceps and forearms, his skin was dirty and sweaty. He lifted his head again, his eyes flaring dully, only a flicker managing to spark for only a second before they were back to normal. His face was as ravaged as his arms with dried blood matting his hair.

“Gabriel!” Cas cried.

Gabriel tried to stand, his feet barely touching the floor.

“The cuffs are spelled,” Charlie noted.

“I can’t get ‘em off,” Gabriel panted, blood dripping from his mouth. “Michael knows you’re here, brother.”

The mighty sprite’s voice was barely loud enough to hear, wrenching Dean’s heart. 

Sam rushed forward, bear-hugging the sprite to take his weight. Gabriel’s head fell to Sam’s shoulder, the sprite shuttering slightly. “We got you, Gabe,” Sam assured, giving the three of them a desperate look.

Charlie and Cas began examining the cuffs, trying spells and magic to break them. Dean stepped back to the door, watching for signs of anyone coming. 

“I can’t read this!” Charlie panicked.

“It’s Enochian,” Cas explained.

“Translate it!” She barked.

“It’s Enochian sigils of binding. Binding grace, binding energy, binding metal.”

“Come on!” Sam groaned.

Dean could hear the faint sound of activity from the corridors. “Somone’s coming!” Dean hissed.

Cas stepped back from Gabriel, his eyes tracing the cuffs, the chains, and where they bolted to the granite walls. “We’ll figure it out later,” he commanded, holding both hands out.

Charlie stepped back as the walls began to rumble, trembling until a groaning crack split the walls on both sides, climbing like a vine until it reached the bolts, bursting in chunks of granite, dust filling the room as Sam took Gabriel’s full weight, both chains clambering to the floor, bolts and chunks of wall still attached.

“Cas!” Dean yelled, seeing three sprites and Michael round the final corner, striding toward them. He backed into the room as Michael and the others came in.

Cas spun, blue eyes wide. He held a hand up, Michael doing the same. Dean ducked and rolled from the two powers clashing together. Walls shook and stone dust showered down over him.

A sneering sprite snatched Dean by the collar, yanking him toward Michael, who waved a hand whisking the pair away.

Dean gasped from the flight, coughing on the dust that still clung around him. Stunned, he found himself in a new room. By what he could see out of the window, he was several floors higher in the palace.

“Hairless apes!” The sprite spat, throwing Dean so hard across the room that his sword bounced away with a clatter. Dean rolled, scrambling to his feet, but the sprite simply waved, his sword disappearing. Dean kept scrambling, dodging behind a table and chairs as the entire set slid sharply against a far wall, leaving Dean exposed and no where to run. 

He stood, staring at the sprite with all the anger that coursed through him. His hands clenched into fists as his chin dropped, staring hard at the older sprite.

His blue eyes were nothing like Castiel’s. They sparkled bright and cold as the man laughed cruelly. “You can get as mad as you want, you piss ant. There isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

Dean stared the man down, refusing to show a shred of fear to the bastard. He forced his shoulders to relax and his jaw to unclench as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“Nothing to say?” The sprite jibed. His fancy black clothes made him look wealthier than anyone Dean had ever met. “You do speak in full sentences, right?”

Dean swallowed carefully. He had no idea what to expect from this sprite, so he waited.

“Maybe you speak in grunts and lots of pointing,” the sprite went on, smirking, obviously thinking himself quite funny.

“Well! Go on! Say something!”

Dean settled into an amused smirk. He was going to kill this fucker.

The sprite, completely overconfident in himself, went on about how stupid humans were, pacing closer and closer to Dean until he was just close enough. Dean swiped the small knife from his belt, slicing the sprite’s neck with lightning speed. He ran for the door as the sprite stumbled back in shock. Dean was halfway down the hall when the air around him gripped over his shoulders and around his sides like a giant fist, dragging him back into the room, slamming him back against the wall.

Gasping, the sprite glared at him furiously. “You worthless ape!” 

His shirt and black jacket were blood stained, but his neck was healed. The knife from his belt flew across the room. 

“Well, since you have nothing worth saying, maybe you don’t need...” his eyes lit up as he grinned, tipping his hand, “your lungs.”

Dean’s chest suddenly felt solid as a concrete slab. He tried to suck in a breath but there was no where for air to go. He clutched at his chest, sinking to his knees as his mouth gasped silently.

“Zachariah, what are you doing?” Michael said sharply, striding into the room looking angry as hell. He snapped his fingers and Dean’s chest burned like fire and he gasped, the black creeping around the edge of his vision receding as air filled his lungs again.

“He cut me!” Zachariah said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dean who was on his hands and knees trying to get his shit together.

“He is nothing.” Michael said angrily. He snapped his fingers again and Dean was bound at the wrists with white rope. A shackle clamped around one ankle, chaining itself to the wall with an abrupt thud. 

The only silver lining at the moment was how angry Michael was. That had to mean something good for Cas, Sam, and the others.

Dean stood quietly in the alcove where he was chained. The room was a living room so fancy it took him a moment to recognize what type of room he was in. The floors were so shiny they looked wet, the furniture so large and ornate that he barely recognized what was a couch, chairs, and tables.

Michael paced, his lip curled in anger, as his dark eyes flared from time to time with magic. 

“What do you need me to do?” Zachariah asked, watching his leader pace.

“They got Gabriel,” Michael said tightly, looking quite pissed about it. He stopped, facing Dean with an evil lift to one corner of his mouth. “But now I have one of his marked humans.” His eyes roved over Dean’s body. He stepped closer to him, narrowing his eyes. “What is all over you? A spell?”

Dean licked his lips. Michael must be talking about the contract. Gabriel had seen the sign of something all over him too, but hadn’t recognized what it was. “Yep,” he lied, grinning. “A witch’s protection spell. As soon as you try anything on me, it’ll bounce right back on you, douchebag.”

Michael studied him. “He lies. It is demonic,” Michael said. “I can smell the sulfur.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “I was just killing a bunch of demons yesterday. Hope they were friends of yours.”

Michael’s eyes darkened until they sparked. He turned back to Zachariah, “He lies.”

Dean hoped he had given Michael enough reason to not kill him right on the spot. At this point, he was pretty much defenseless.

“Prepare a garrison. I’ll be taking you to Freeland,” Michael said.

Dean shivered. 

Zachariah bowed deeply, smiling. “Yes, Your Highness.” The sprite left the room quickly, leaving Dean and Michael to glare at each other again.

“Just what is your name, little human?” Michael asked with a sly grin.

“None of your damn business,” Dean proffered.

Michael chuckled. “Why are you marked by Castiel?”

“Because he’s gonna end you.” Dean grinned like there was no tomorrow. Because, in all reality, he probably did not have a tomorrow. “He’s gonna wipe the board with your punk ass and slaughter all those demons you got all hopped up.”

Michael fumed, stepping into Dean’s space, putting his palm on Dean’s chest. Dean tried to step back but couldn’t move. A crawling sensation creeped from Michael’s palm, through his chest, up his neck and settled into the base of his skull. “What is your name?”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean answered abruptly against his will.

Michael’s eyes lit up. “Ah ha. Are you related to John Winchester?”

“His son,” Dean answered, fighting the words.

Michael laughed, quite pleased with his luck. “His son!” He nodded as if he had all the answers. “Perfect. John thinks himself quite the patriot. Lawrence’s head sheriff. You’ll make the perfect example.” The crawling sensation zipped back to Michael’s palm and he withdrew it, leaving Dean slumping and guarding his chest with his tied hands.

“Get the fuck off me,” Dean snapped.

Michael flicked his hand, throwing Dean into the nearby wall where he crumpled to the floor, everything going black with a loud ringing in his ears.

*********************************************

“We gotta go back!” Sam yelled, still holding Gabriel in his arms.

Castiel looked to the doorways, nephilim coming through several of them at a run. He had brought them to the main reception hall of Samandriel’s palace. “Where is Samandriel!” Castiel yelled, calling to him with his mind.

“Our Mage is at the Stacks!” A sprite said, halting his run, dropping to kneel to Castiel.

Castiel flew, landing in the largest reference room of the library, knowing someone would be around to answer him. Pages fluttered and sprites sat back in shock at his sudden appearance.

“Where is Samandriel!” Castiel demanded, not caring that his tone insighted fear at this point.

A woman midway between the rows of tables pointed to the fourth floor balcony that overlooked the massive room. “Th-the north tower with -“

Castiel flew to the main hall on the fourth floor section of the north tower. He made his way down the hall, Samandriel stepping out of one of the rooms with a confused look on his face.

“Castiel! I thought I could hear your voice in my head a moment ago!” Abettors flooded the hall behind him.

“That is because I was calling you. We have Gabriel.” He crossed the last step closer to Samandriel, snapping his fingers.

All seven abettors that had been with him and Samandriel appeared in the hall to Samandriel’s palace where Charlie and Sam still stood. Sam still held Gabriel’s weak form in his arms as Charlie stood next to him, bolts, chains, and chunks of the walls from Michael’s palace in her arms.

“Cas!” Sam yelled. “Quit disappearing!”

Samandriel quickly took in the situation. He turned to some of the abettors. “Send for Raphael. Now.”

Two abettors ran out the palace door.

“The orchid solarium,” Samandriel said quickly.

Castiel knew the room. A pleasant sunroom that Gabriel always preferred when he visited. Castiel snapped his fingers, Sam, Gabriel, Charlie, Samandriel, himself, and the five remaining abettors appeared quite suddenly in the bright, floral room.

Thick white carpet gave the room a quiet feel. Huge purple orchids bloomed in arching limbs, the fragrance immediately infusing their senses.

“Put him on the bed,” Alfie ordered, sweeping several pillows away from a white lounge. 

Sam crossed the long room, laying Gabriel on the bed, Charlie putting the ends of the shackles on the floor beneath it.

Castiel turned Samandriel to face him. “You tell Raphael that if he doesn’t heal Gabriel, today will be his last.”

Samandriel’s blue eyes widened, but his shook his head in understanding. 

“And get those shackles off.”

“Yes, Castiel,” Samandriel nodded, going to Gabriel’s side immediately.

“It’s Sam and Sam,” Gabriel giggled, his smile disappearing instantly as pain drew his brow in misery.

Sam took a step toward him, but Castiel shook his head no. “I won’t risk you as well,” Castiel said, stepping back. “I will find him.” He flew away before Sam or Charlie could argue or grab him.

He returned to the room Gabriel had been in. The cracked walls were still leaking fine granite dust, but no one was there. He concentrated, not feeling Michael at all. Worried his emotions were blocking him, he pushed the horrible worries from his mind, focusing on Michael.

Nothing.

He began landing in room after room, searching the palace, setting nephilim running with startled screams as he went. Seeing an abettor, Castiel gripped him, dragging him with his grace across the room, his jade gown flailing as the woman struggled. He knew this abettor and could honestly say he had never liked her. “Naomi,” he snarled.

She gasped, her feet scraping the floor uselessly as her hands clawed at the grip he had circled around her neck.

“Where is Michael.”

She gasped so he loosened the grip fractionally.

“Gone!”

“Where!” Castiel demanded, pulling her in closer to stare directly into her eyes. Naomi was known for mind grace. At the first tickle of his brain, he slammed her against the wall so hard she blinked rapidly. “I won’t ask again.”

“War,” she choked out. “He took the human and a garrison to battle.”

Castiel frowned. “Why would he take Dean to a battle?”

“I don’t know!” She gasped, her eyes wild.

“WHERE ARE THEY?!” Castiel roared.

“Freeland!” She barely choked out. “All I know is Freeland!”

Castiel threw her down as several abettors and other nephilim rushed into the room, hands raised in preparation to use their grace. He stomped one foot forward, his wings snapping into their plane as the lights flashed and his eyes went white with grace. “If you stand with Michael then you are my enemy! HAVEN’S enemy!”

The group of nephilim froze in shock at the sight of his wings and his absolute fury.

“IF you fight for Michael and survive this war, know this. I will RIP the grace from you. I will strip every power you have and ward all your children so they never feel a flicker of grace. THAT is what awaits my enemies when I defeat you.”

The abettors retracted their frozen hands, clutching at their robes in terror.

Castiel’s wings arched wrathfully and he punched the floor with all his might, cracking the granite and stone with a thunderous, ear-splitting rumble, flying away to leave them in their ruins.

His breath heaved and he roared with anger in the plane between. Michael had Dean!

Wilting to his knees, his wings limp at his sides as his throat burned raw, he wept. His most perfect Dean.

He dragged himself to his feet, wiping away his tears with his grace. He had no idea how to find Dean. Freeland was mostly a mystery to him. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to the solarium to check on Gabriel.

Everyone backed up a step as Castiel landed in the solarium, wings still bristling in anger, except Sam, who jogged over to him.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked, fear radiating from his tall frame.

Raphael, kneeling at Gabriel’s side went back to work quickly as Samandriel took a few steps closer to Castiel.

“Michael has taken him to Freeland,” Castiel said darkly. “He has taken him to a battle.”

Sam’s face crumpled in fear. “A battle! Why?!”

“I have no idea,” Castiel admitted.

Sam nodded, fighting to keep himself from folding completely, Samandriel patting his shoulder with a sympathetic frown.

Castiel went to Gabriel’s side, staring down into his brown eyes, wild with pain. Gabriel gripped his hand tightly. “Michael, the bastard, was taking my grace, Cassie! Taking it from me! He-he put it in him to make himself stronger!”

Castiel gaped, not knowing such a thing were even possible.

“He still has grace,” Raphael interjected before Castiel could even think to ask. “He is weaker, but he still has plenty of grace.”

Gabriel squeezed his hand tighter still, his eyes wide in desperation. “Go get him!”

Castiel nodded solemnly, letting his hand go. Shaken, Castiel went back to Samandriel and Sam.

“Go,” Samandriel said quickly. “Find the battle and I will have troops ready for you.”

“Be there as soon as I can,” Gabriel groaned, writhing under Raphael’s ministrations.

Charlie stood, whatever spell she had been attempting on the chains dissipating with her distraction.

“Stay,” Castiel ordered her. “Gabriel must be freed of those bonds. We need him.”

Charlie nodded, swiping tears from her cheeks as she knelt again, picking up the chains with shaking hands.

Castiel stepped aside with Sam. “I don’t know if I can get to Freeland.”

Sam nodded. “Well, let’s try.”

Castiel hesitated. “The wards might stop us.”

“Then we’ll figure something out,” Sam insisted. “We have to try.” 

Castiel agreed, he just worried he could hurt Sam if this didn’t work. “This is very risky.”

“Cas!” Sam yelled.

Castiel nodded. He took Sam’s hand, unsure how difficult the flight could be. Most likely they would be flung right back to the floor. But he had to try. He flew, to the best of his knowledge, to Freeland.

They landed on the docks of a vaguely familiar town, the sound of seagulls and the chop of ocean meeting their ears.

“It worked!” Sam cheered.

Castiel shook his head in wonder. “Michael must have blocked the wards to allow flight to Haven, so we were stopped as far as we could go, then we were blocked inside Purgatory. That means I probably won’t be able to fly back to Haven. But I should be able to get to Lawrence because everything south is still unblocked.”

“Okay,” Sam said, looking half confused but more interested in their surroundings.

They stared around them.

“This is ..., where we got on the ship in Freeland,” Sam said, looking around at the buildings near the dock.

It did look familiar, though last time he was here, he was a cat. It looked smaller in scale and some of the buildings were piles of rubble now, showing signs of the ravages of war.

Several people noted their arrival, running to hide among the town’s buildings. Castiel was overwhelmed. There was an entire country to search. How would he ever find Dean?!

Sam took a few hurried steps away from him, eyes already searching the edge of town for signs of anything. He turned back to Castiel. “Let’s go!”

Castiel’s hands lifted out in despair. “Go where?! I have no idea where to look!”

Sam came back to him slowly, his clever mind fast at work. “Do what you did at the palace. Search for Dean. Or a battle. Or Michael.”

Castiel nodded, trying to quiet his chaotic mind. He stared down at the wooden boards of the dock, remembering the feel of the wood beneath his paws as he and Dean had crossed it to the ship.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Freeland was much easier to search than Michael’s stifling palace. He searched and searched, hills and valleys thick with trees flooded his mind once he passed the halting little port town. His mind flew the vast countryside for what seemed like forever. Rufus Turner, the road to Whitefish, he swerved east past a town of werewolves that was now full of demons and little more than rows of destroyed structures. More towns. More demons. More destruction. People, monsters, witches, hiding here and there, tucked away.

He gasped, panting, his mind reeling back to himself. “It’s too big! I can’t find him!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam soothed, still looking hopeful. “Just...find Dean. Show me your sigil.”

Castiel pulled his sleeve up, his eyes burning with tears at the sigil he and Dean shared. Charlie had warned them that a lot of blood from making it could mean there would be a lot of loss or sacrifice. He folded his arms across his chest, desperate to save his soulmate. He stroked the sigil with his thumb, searching for Dean harder than he had ever forced his grace to work.

Staring unblinkingly up at the sky, his vision careened over the land.

“CAAAAASSS!” Dean’s voice screamed in his head.

Jolting in shock, Castiel gripped Sam’s arm. “Dean! I found him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25 will be posted on Tuesday, along with chapter 26. I would read them together and probably not over a lunch break. It’s gonna be intense.


	25. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war rages as Michael shows off his power and preaches his new plan for the world.
> 
> Castiel needs to find his way to Dean.
> 
> Charlie fights Gabriel’s chains.
> 
> The war tips in a new direction as Michael unleashes his rule. The history books will proclaim this day as People’s Day. The day all peoples came together to fight a madman. The day one of the good guys fell in utter devastation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: MCD, violence
> 
> Don’t hate me guys! Keep reading. Keep breathing. The end is near.

Chapter 25: Bound  
  
  
  
Sam gripped Castiel tight, shaking him slightly to make him look at him. “Cas!”  
  
Castiel blinked, Dean’s scream still echoing in his mind.  
  
“We can’t go in - just the two of us. Let’s get help.”  
  
“There’s no time!” Castiel yelled, staring as Sam gripped him even harder.  
  
“We MAKE time.”  
  
Castiel wanted to shove Sam away and go to Dean. But even that pause was enough to make him realize Sam was right.  
  
“We have troops ready,” Sam encouraged.  
  
Castiel nodded, his head still swimming. He found it near impossible to strategize when all he could think about was that surge of Dean.  
  
Without a word of explanation, he took Sam home. They landed expertly in the courtyard, startling several people, who quickly welcomed them home. Distracted, Castiel was stunned at a new thought, he stared at Sam. “I cannot get back home. Michael’s wards will block me again!”  
  
Sam fisted both hands in his hair. “Okay. So...we fight from the bottom up. Lawrence troops will help Freeland. And Gabriel, because Raphael WILL heal Gabriel, we’ll get troops. We just have to give them some time.”  
  
Sam’s look of reassurance would have to do. Castiel nodded.  
  
“Sam!” Adam’s voice rang out from the side kitchen door  
as he stepped out.  
  
Sam ran halfway to him, yelling. “Toll the bell, Adam! We need troops now!”  
  
Adam skidded to a halt, changing direction to run up the bell tower to toll the bell.  
  
“I’ll be back!” Castiel yelled, leaving for one of the other markers they had set up.  
  
He landed with a flap of wings in the windy mountains of Highland’s peak. He left his wings out, seeing the wide eyes of the watchmen widen even more.  
  
“Shit!” One of them gulped. “Jesse! Tell them the sprite is here!”  
  
The startled man ran up the perch and began tolling the bell.  
  
“We’ll have a hundred men ready for you in twenty minutes, Your Highness,” Jesse said, at least holding himself together better than the man ringing the bell.  
  
“Not a minute more,” Castiel snapped, flying to the next marker. This marker was along the railroad tracks they had ridden across Lawrence. He had never been to the town of Topeka, but it was where he had watched humans bid farewells from Impala’s back in the train car. He got a similar reaction from these humans as the ones in the highlands, one woman tolling a bell as the other assured him they would have 80 fighters ready in half an hour.  
  
Castiel flew back to Freeland. He paced along a shoreline, listening, feeling for Dean.  
  
Wherever he was, he was surrounded by the chaotic savageries of war. He was in pain. But his fear was palpable. He tried to tell him he was close. That they were coming. To not give up. To have heart and know he would soon be there. But he was unsure Dean could hear him at all.  
  
He paced along the shore again, focusing on Gabriel. All he could feel was a vast block. Assuming it was Michael’s ward, he quickly shut down the open communication. He flew back to the bunker in Lebanon, landing deftly in the courtyard.  
  
Adam sprung to his feet, looking like he had been waiting for him. “Thursday! I mean...Catstiel!”  
  
Castiel held his tongue from correcting his young friend. He mustered a grin for the boy, getting to one knee to greet him. “Hello, Adam.”  
  
“Wow! Your wings are so big!” Adam’s eyes traveled the wide spread of black feathers.  
  
Castiel arched them gently, watching Adam grin before he quickly remembered his duty awaiting him.  
  
“Sam and Dad and everybody are waitin’ for ya by the bell tower.”  
  
“Thank you, Adam,” Castiel said, getting to his feet, heading toward the entrance of the courtyard.   
  
“Sam said a sprite grabbed Dean.”  
  
Castiel slowed his steps so Adam did not have to run to keep up. His little face was drawn with worry. “Yes,” he admitted.   
  
Adam nodded, trying very hard to keep a very grown-up look on his face.  
  
Castiel paused in his steps, going on one knee again to meet Adam’s light brown eyes. “I am going to get him back.”  
  
Adam shifted on his feet, his mouth trembling.  
  
“Dean is very important to me. Just like he is important to you.”  
  
Adam frowned, fighting off tears.  
  
Castiel, now so much more familiar with how humans behaved, pulled the boy in for a hug. Adam wilted into him. “I will protect him, Adam, I promise.”  
  
Adam sniffled, clinging to him fiercely. “Who will protect you?”  
  
Something between a laugh and a cry choked Castiel’s breath. “We all take turns protecting each other.” He held Adam at arm’s length. “Remember when you protected me?”  
  
Adam sniffled again, nodding.  
  
“If it weren’t for you, I would have lost all of you the day you left. But you kept me on your lap and carried me when I couldn’t keep up on my own.”  
  
Adam’s tears stopped. “Will it be as scary as when you attacked the werewolf?”  
  
Castiel thought back to that night. Michael was a much more fearsome adversary than the werewolf had been. Even though the wolf had been ten times his size. “I won’t be alone. Your brother has many people that care about him.”  
  
Adam nodded, looking much more relieved. He hugged Castiel again before the pair headed through the entrance toward the gathering army.  
  
“My dad is pissed.”  
  
Castiel looked down at Adam in surprise at the little boy’s language. “He is?”  
  
Adam kept his eyes ahead, but his steps slowed, Castiel slowing his to match. “He says sprites are killing people. But I don’t think you or Monday would kill anybody.”  
  
Castiel chose not to comment on that.  
  
“He says you put Dean in danger. But I told him that’s not true. He says sprites are bad. But you aren’t bad. And neither is Monday.”  
  
“Gabriel and I are working very hard to stop the bad sprites.”  
  
Castiel’s attention was drawn to the group ahead of him, arguing. John, Samuel, Sam, Bobby, and several of the sheriffs were gathered.  
  
“There he is,” John growled, breaking away from the group as he glared at Castiel.  
  
Castiel stood in front of the group, caring very little for whatever it was they were bickering about.  
  
“Are you planning to take my people to Freeland?” Samuel snapped. “I don’t have my people camping out here to waste lives on Freeland’s problems.”  
  
Castiel did not miss Adam bristling at his side. “I am.”  
  
Samuel’s face darkened another shade of red. “My people -”  
  
“I ain’t one of yer people,” Bobby snapped at Samuel.  
  
Castiel raged inside. His wings flared, silencing the group, making them all take a step backwards. Except Adam, who stood faithfully and determinately at his side. “Freeland’s problems ARE your problems, you fool!” He turned to the awaiting men and women who were gathered to fight. He touched his throat, making his voice as loud as thunder. “We are leaving for a battle in Freeland. If you do not wish to join this fight, step out now!”  
  
Some of them murmured to each other, a few stepping out of line, but Castiel was heartened to see it was only a few.  
  
“We leave now. Prepare yourselves.”  
  
Samuel seethed in frustration.  
  
“Where’s Charlie?” Jo demanded, approaching him, looking angrier than he had ever seen her.  
  
“She is safe. She is with Gabriel and my people in Haven.”  
  
Her body relaxed and she nodded. Donna put a supportive hand on the girl’s shoulder. He had not noticed her and Ellen standing behind the group.  
  
“Time ta teach these bastards a lesson,” Donna nodded, gun in hand and a look of calm determination in her eyes.  
  
Castiel nodded to her. He stepped back to study who all were in the group when a small hand tugged his. He looked down at Adam.  
  
“Good luck, Thursday.”  
  
Castiel’s heart softened in the moment. Adam’s look of worry touched his soul and strengthened his grace. He knelt, hugging the boy. “Thank you, Adam. I will do all I can to save Dean.”  
  
“I know. I could help.”  
  
Castiel squeezed his tiny frame one last time, cupping his small face in his hands to meet his eyes. “You can help me by making sure the medic is ready for anyone who returns injured. I will find you as soon as I can.”  
  
Adam nodded bravely; his chin tight with reined in emotion. Castiel kissed his forehead and stood, watching the boy run to the wall to join Kate. Kate gave him a proud nod, which he returned.  
  
“We leave now!” Castiel yelled, taking the group to the Highlands where they gathered their army, then to Topeka, where they gathered more. Castiel took a deep breath, his grace stretched wide to claim more than 250 men and women in his care and flew to the surge of battle he felt.  
  
They landed in the wooded edge of a town he did not know. Screams of battle, clang of swords, and shots from guns met their ears as demons swirled like smokey snakes above them. The town was losing, that much was clear. Buildings were on fire while others lay in rubble. The streets were full of fighting.  
  
John quickly took over organizing the humans into attack groups. Castiel was drawn to the now familiar surge of energy and taint of war that marked Michael’s presence.

He gripped Sam’s shoulder. “I feel Michael.”

Sam’s mouth opened, probably to say, ‘let’s go’, or something else heroic. But Castiel refused to bring Sam into Michael’s presence and risk losing him.

He left the humans to do their part as he flew toward Michael, landing atop a roof overlooking a huge clearing where the town’s people must have played games. Bleachers lined three sides of the grassy pitch and were filled with cheering demons and Leviathan.   
  
His heart pounded, his soul quaked, and his grace surged. Sensing him, Michael, standing atop a large grandstand at the far end of the field, met his eyes and grinned.  
  
“There he is!” Michael announced, his voice loud and booming. The gathered on-lookers turned to stare up at him, cheering harder. “Castiel! So glad you got here in time! My pets are so hungry. I wasn’t sure I could hold them off much longer.” His maniacal laugh echoed around the arena, demons jeering him on.  
  
“Oh, Dean,” Castiel gasped, unsure of what to do.  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
Charlie was chanting something, rocking back and forth, working so hard that Gabriel could see the magic swirl around her like a blue haze. She reeked of earth magic and he had to admit, of all the witches he had met, her powers were right up there with the High Witch of Lawrence and the High Witch of Freeland.  
  
Raphael had done all he could to heal him through the blocking confines of the cuffs. Gabriel was relieved he was at least able to sit up now, slouched and spent as he was. He watched as her blue magic rolled and wrapped around the cuffs, marring at the sigils, but unable to break through.  
  
Samandriel paced back and forth torn between ordering his abettors to rally their troops and watching him nervously.  
  
Charlie panted, sweat darkening the edges of her red hair. She needed more power.  
  
“Hey, Raph,” Gabriel licked his dry lips, studying the witch.  
  
“Yes, Your Highness?” Raphael asked, watching the witch with outright disdain. “Charlie is onto something. She’s wearing down the sigils. Try boosting her magic with your grace.”  
  
Raphael looked horrified, pulling back a step. Samandriel stopped pacing, staring down at the Mage expectantly.  
  
Charlie’s chanting missed a beat as her eyes opened, glancing between the three Mages. The sigils immediately began strengthening and she started chanting again, desperation in her eyes.  
  
“Now,” Gabriel ordered.  
  
“I don’t even know how!” Raphael balked.  
  
“Figure it out,” Gabriel and Samandriel ordered, Samandriel’s order assisted with the sudden appearance of an angel blade in his hand.  
  
Raphael gasped at the young Mage, but quickly closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to gather his grace. He put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Samandriel put the blade away, watching carefully.  
  
“Our troops are ready, Your Highness,” an abettor announced.   
  
Samandriel nodded. “The Tuesdays and Wednesdays will go with Uriel. Let him know we will be there as soon as possible.”  
  
Gabriel huffed. He couldn’t even imagine being strong enough to move all those nephilim. He looked at Charlie, worried he was going to injure her with how hard she was forcing the magic.  
  
“Yes, Your Highness!” The abettor ran from the room.  
  
Gabriel tried to search out his grace but could not work around the cuffs.  
  
Charlie’s eyes flared with the white light of grace, her magic surging white and blue. Her pale skin radiated white with light, the red of her hair flaring like flames as Raphael squeezed her shoulder harder, wilting next to her.   
  
Charlie’s chants got louder until she was nearly shouting, her muscles trembling. She gasped, yelling the chant again as Samandriel put a hand on her other shoulder. Her eyes lit into a blinding white light as her words took grace form, surging through the four of them like lightning until the cuffs burst with an ear-splitting surge that threw all four of them to the furthest corners of the room.  
  
Gabriel’s vision whited out with the grace as he panted and gasped into an upright position. He rolled onto his knees, blinking madly to adjust his grace and rein it in.  
  
His vision came back, everything in shades of white and blue, good enough that he could crawl across the wrecked room to Charlie.  
  
She wasn’t moving and blood came from her eyes, ears, and nose. “No! No! No!” Gabriel panicked. He held the tiny witch to his chest, searching out her soul amongst the singe of magic and grace everywhere.  
  
“Charlie!” He whispered, blinking hard as other colors came back to his vision. “Charlie, stay with me!”   
  
Raphael clambered across the room, wrapping his hand around Charlie’s dainty wrist, his grace thrumming with healing. Samandriel knelt at her feet.   
  
“What can I do?”  
  
“I need ANY healers!” Raphael barked.  
  
Samandriel snapped his fingers, four abettors coming through the wreckage of the room to lay hands on Charlie.  
  
While the Tuesdays healed, Gabriel searched desperately for her soul, finding it like streaming ribbon instead of the nice buoyant balloon it should be. He gathered it, his own grace whiting his vision again as he gathered and sewed and mended the delicate mist. He could feel her body strengthen. Her heart beat stronger and her lungs filled with air. Her body was working and one by one the abettors withdrew their now weary hands.  
  
With the softest, quickest swirling of his grace Gabriel had ever used, he held Charlie’s soul together. He had never even fathomed doing something like this before, but this little witch had saved him. Saved Cassie. And she was important. He knew it. He could feel the pivotal pull of her presence being what they needed to tip the scales of good and evil in their war. He had no idea how to interpret what he felt and what would happen, but if Charlie died, all was lost.  
  
He gasped when her soul throbbed.  
  
“Charlie?” He searched and searched the mending soul, cradling it delicately.  
  
The ribboned soul pulsed one steady throb.  
  
He closed his eyes, putting his forehead against hers. “Charlie.” He demanded.  
  
Throb, throb.  
  
“Charlie!”  
  
Her soul surged, pulled inward, and settled into a smooth, round, buoyant mass. Gabriel delicately withdrew the grip his grace held her in until the two breathed heavily, staring into each other’s eyes.  
  
“Charlie?” He whispered, pulling his head back as awareness awoke in her eyes.  
  
“Wow. That was...wow.” Charlie trembled in his lap, looking around at all of them in wonder. “I saw the veil. I was there...sort of...I...”  
  
Samandriel gave her an encouraging smile and she looked back at Gabriel, hugging him. “Thank you!”  
  
“Thank you,” he sighed, exhausted, hugging her back. The pair got to their feet with everyone else, still blinking around like the world was just slightly out of focus.   
  
“Dude!” Charlie grinned, socking Gabriel in the shoulder. “We’re like...soulmates!”  
  
Gabriel grinned, feeling the imprint of her witchy soul on his grace. “Somethin’ like that.”  
  
“Yeah!” She stared at him for a moment, her color returning and her strength growing. “I can feel your grace!”  
  
Gabriel allowed himself a moment to let his grace roll and surge through his own body, filling him like he was used to. His wings came forth and everyone knelt. As Charlie began to kneel, he cupped his hand under her elbow, blocking her. It felt wrong. She felt akin to him. A bond.  
  
“Uh oh. I think we bonded.”  
  
Charlie laughed. “I feel...awesome!”  
  
Gabriel kissed the top of her head, appreciating the starry-eyed look in her eyes. “Me too, kid-o.” He flexed his fingers and wrists, shaking off the last lingering effects of the binding cuffs.  
  
Charlie thanked the hovering mages and abettors, Raphael looking completely wiped out with a side of confusion.  
  
“We should go,” Gabriel said, feeling a pull to the south. As if something disturbing were happening in Purgatory...no, Freeland...oh...rage, fear, and mass anger swarmed heavily. “Something is happening in Freeland.”  
  
“Let’s go!” Charlie said eagerly.  
  
“Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday troops are ready and waiting for you, Your Highness,” Samandriel said, bowing to Gabriel.  
  
“Nice,” Gabriel smirked, flexing his grace again, his wings spreading until they settled into two great, black masses behind him. “I think Michael is in battle in Freeland. Let’s see if we can’t lend Castiel a hand.”  
  
  
  
**************************************************  
  
  
  
Gabriel landed in the courtyard to the bunker in Lebanon, Lawrence. Humans scattered back as troops of nephilim filled the street in front of the bunker. Their smooth uniforms stood out staunchly against the rougher clothes worn by the humans, who crowded against buildings with wide eyes, most of them seeing nephilim for the first time, unless they had chanced a glance at him or Castiel. The nephilim looked around in curiosity at the people they had only thus far heard of. Children perched along the low walls of the bunker’s courtyard, staring in wonder at row after row of soldiers.  
  
A bell tolled two sharp rings and guards came out the front entrance of the bunker, Samuel coming quickly behind them.  
  
“Monday!” Adam came running around the group, his mother trying, but failing, to keep a hold of him.  
  
Charlie stood to his right, a feeling that completed him in a way he had never known before, like she belonged with him.  
  
Adam came to a hasty stop just in front of him. “Thursday left with the others to get Dean!”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Then that’s where we’re going. Thanks, kid.”  
  
Adam stepped back, the guards stepping just behind him. “They need your help,” Samuel barked. “Michael’s there and my grandson is missing!”  
  
Gabriel ignored the man, already knowing as much. Now that he knew for certain Castiel had left Lawrence, there was nothing left but to join his brother in battle.  
  
“And now our people are fighting the war you started in a country that doesn’t even matter!”

Gabriel glared at the asshole as another sheriff told him all they knew, but his attention was drawn to the street. The children, men, and women gathered were thanking the soldiers; tearful cries of gratitude, cheers of bravery, until they culminated into a rousing song that had all the nephilim preening with a modicum of pride that had thus far been missing in their eyes.  
  
Charlie gripped his hand, squeezing, as tears glistened in her eyes. He returned it, shocked that he was as emotionally moved as he was.  
  
“I think we better go,” Gabriel said, fighting a hitch in his voice.  
  
“We are SO gonna kick it in the ass,” Charlie stated.  
  
Gabriel smirked at the look of dismay on Samuel’s face. It looked like all people had their bad eggs, but the lined streets gave him hope that they were all doing the right thing.  
  
Gabriel winked at Adam. “I’ll be back with your cat. And your brother.”  
  
Adam smiled, stepping back.  
  
Gabriel held up one hand, an angel blade sliding into the other. He snapped his fingers, angel blades appearing in all the nephilim’s hands.  
  
Gabriel snapped again and they were gone.  
  
  
************************************  
  
  
Dean’s eyes snapped open with abrupt consciousnesses. He took a slow, deep gasp, blinking in the sudden light of day. The last thing he remembered was Michael dragging him through the streets of whatever town they were in, demons, Leviathan, and other Sunday sprites killing people and monsters. Dean had screamed for help. He screamed for Sam. For Cas. But no one could help him. The look of defeat in the townspeople’s eyes terrified him. He had fought to get away from Michael, but the demons had been allowed to kick the shit out of him if he got near them, making Michael laugh. His body ached and he had some pretty hefty scrapes he could feel burning against the fabric of his shirt and pants.  
  
But he was out of the streets now. His wrists were bound above his head, his feet standing on grass. The length of chain that was attached to his cuffs led to a spike atop a thick, wooden post he leaned against. Gaining his footing as his alertness grew, he could take two steps away from the pole, giving him a little room to move, but his arms were still hoisted high above his head. He had no idea where he was. Grass stretched out in front of him in all directions. Directly in front of him, Michael paced back and forth on a platform that gave him a high vantage point.  
  
“Shit,” Dean groaned.  
  
A handful of sprites stood on the stage next to him. One of them was the douche-nozzle that had nabbed him in the first place. Zachariah. Prick. There were others he did not recognize.   
  
A whiff of foul-smelling air hit his nostrils, making him tuck his nose into his shoulder. The sky was too blue, and the grass was too green to be in Purgatory. And the town had been too nice. That was when the bleachers of people caught his attention. Three sides around him were surrounded by bleachers of black-eyed men, women, and children, not to mention leering Leviathan, some of them sporting giant open mouths that took up their whole head.  
  
Demons.  
  
Leviathan.  
  
“Awesome.”  
  
What he couldn’t figure out now was what the hell was going on. He felt the weight of attention from the crowd but had no idea what exactly they were counting on watching him do.  
  
“What the fuck?” He muttered.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Michael called smoothly, parading the stage, his black wings sweeping out.   
  
Dean scoffed. Michael’s wings were thin and scrawny compared to Cas’.  
  
“I’m told our special guests have arrived!” Michael jeered, the crowd cheering even louder.   
  
Dean twisted, looking about him in all directions. He had no idea what the hell Michael was talking about. A strong gust of hot air hit his face, heavy with the stench of rot and burning coal. He gagged, stepping back hearing a growl, guttural and low. Shivers shook down his body as he realized the grass was not empty. Depressions of huge footprints circled him as other growls made him twist back and forth.  
  
“Oh fuck,” he gasped. His eyes watered from the disgusting stench. He had only one idea what could make a sound like that and be invisible.  
  
Hellhounds.  
  
He blinked around the arena, his body trembling in fear without his fucking permission.  
  
“Oh, fuck me.”  
  
Michael’s wings arched as he stared somewhere beyond the bleachers on the right. Dean wound the chains around his wrists, pushing against the pole with all his might. However Michael had attached them, they weren’t budging.  
  
“I feel you, brother!” Michael called loudly across the grounds. Dean dropped from his exertions, hanging from the chains, panting.  
  
He felt another puff of hot air down his neck and scrambled away, the chain rapping against the wooden pole. He had to get out of here.  
  
“There he is!” Michael cheered, the demons and Leviathan in the stands cheering along with him. Dean spun to follow what Michael was looking at.  
  
Castiel stood on the roof of the nearest house.  
  
“Nononononono!” Dean panicked, knowing Cas would risk his life to save him. He pulled hard against the cuffs again, feeling his skin burn and tear against the metal bindings.  
  
“Castiel!” Michael went on, “So glad you got here in time! My pets are so hungry. I wasn’t sure I could hold them off much longer.”   
  
Several Hellhounds snarled and Dean tried to figure out how he could climb the huge post he was chained to. Anything to get away from the invisible monsters circling him. Anything to keep Cas out of here.  
  
“Michael!” Cas yelled back, stepping to the edge of the roof but no further. “Stop this! What are you doing?”  
  
Dean tried with all his might but could not climb the stupid post. All his fighting with the post and cuffs must have agitated the invisible hounds too, because he could feel at least two of them so close that his shirt ruffled from their breathing and the stench was incredible. He held still, backing slowly against the pole. There was nothing he could do.  
  
“I’m baiting the humans, Castiel!” Michael went on. “This is one of the leaders’ sons! Ooooohhhh, but you knew that!”  
  
“Let him go,” Cas begged. “Take me instead.”  
  
“So eager to lay with the humans,” Michael sneered. “You even marked him! This weak, vile, useless creature! You care so much for him and the rest of them that you GAVE UP YOUR STATION!” Michael breathed heavily, looking beyond angry as his dark eyes flared with blue-white light. “Mage of Thursday, Human’s Messenger Boy,” Michael mocked.  
  
Cas paced the edge of the roof, his eyes moving steadily around the scene.  
  
“Like my little show?” Michael asked, grinning. “Let’s do some introductions, shall we? Welcome to New Harmony! Not a very big town. But then, none of the towns here in Freeland are. New Harmony was mostly a werewolf town until today. What do you think Mr. Roman? This look like a nice Leviathan settlement?”  
  
Dean kept himself pressed as tightly to the pole as he could as a Leviathan next to Michael grinned while his eyes stayed as hard and cold as stone.  
  
“It’s lovely,” the Leviathan quipped. “I’m sure we can make a very nice place...to eat.” His grin widened, his eyes staying cold and sharp.  
  
Michael chuckled, waving him to step back as he continued pacing the stage slowly. “I’m told the humans play games and put on plays here. Today we’ll see a game of a different sort.”  
  
“Michael,” Castiel said sharply. “You cannot win this. The people deserve to be left alone. You are breaking our sacred laws! You have broken the Treaty of the Peoples!”  
  
Michael’s wings and shoulders shrugged. “The Treaty of the Peoples was nothing more than a wall to protect the weak. I say we deserve to be on top again! We will use only the BEST humans! The rest of the humans are only good for food and bodies for the demons. ALL the lands should be mine! Sunday banners will fly in EVERY town! EVERY country! The nephilim will rule as they always were meant to! By weeding out the strongest humans, we will be pure until we are as close to angels again as possible! Our next generation of nephilim will be STRONG! They will be so much like angels that God will come back and we will be his favorite again!”  
  
Dean turned his head, staring up at Castiel. Michael had lost his mind. God was never coming back here! 

Dean watched as a group of Leviathan brought several people onto the stage, making them kneel.  
  
“Who do we have here? Our old prisoner, John Winchester,” Michael went on. “Look Alastair, the man who took our partner, Azazel.”  
  
Alastair, the demon they had seen on the ship, grinned with an eerie leer. “Thanks for that, Johnny boy! Less competition for me, Michael, and Dick.”  
  
“Now, now,” Dick smiled with pure cold hate in his eyes, “Azazel was our ally!”  
  
No one should be this full of hate for an entire group of people. Dean stared at his father. No one should have to see their son die. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run. But all he could do was stare. Next to his dad kneeled Sheriff Henricksen, next to him was Bobby.  
  
Dean’s chin wobbled.  
  
A tear ran down his cheek.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, closing his eyes at the next foul breath that blew his hair back.  
  
“Take me!” Castiel begged, jumping from the roof, rounding the end of one set of bleachers to step into the grassy rectangle.  
  
“Uh, uh, uh!” Michael snapped. “One more step and these Hellhounds will shred not only you, but the human too.”  
  
Dean opened his eyes, seeing the look of absolute horror on Cas’ face. He dropped to his knees, hands open with helplessness. “Take me!”

“Oh, I will take you,” Micheal seethed. “You will be bred and your strong children will never know their Thursday heritage. They will be raised by me! They will be PURE!”  
  
Cas stared at him, his wings arching back as he stood again. The Hellhounds snarled and growled so deeply Dean could feel the ground vibrate.  
  
Dean stared at the epitome of what he was going to lose. Cas. He shook his head with a heartbroken smile. Dammit. He really loved that guy. He tried to ignore the mix of rage and panic on his face, looking at his beautiful wings. All the love he had felt when he was enveloped in them was something he had never dreamed of feeling.  
  
Cas met his eyes. 

“I love you,” Dean mouthed.  
  
  
  
What took place next would forever change the history of man and nephilim, the land in Freeland, and go down in history as People’s Day. The day many kinds of people were together in one place, taking part in countless ways in what would change a lot of things.  
  
New Harmony, Freeland, had been a small town, like all the towns in Freeland other than Chicago. Chicago bustled with a lot of commerce and was home to five of the largest monster families: vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, witches, and skinwalkers. New Harmony was recognized for its large werewolf population and its corn harvest. The town’s park, known for holding football games and outdoor plays, would be memorialized for the bloodiest battle fought during what would be later called The War for Humanity.  
  
Michael had arrived in town with his army of demons and Leviathan and began a bloody siege on the town that had yet to be raided. The demons and Leviathan took great joy in trashing their homes and businesses, burning their school, and terrorizing the people. Then Michael paraded his trophy through the streets until he chained him to the post he grew out of the ground. He brought more demons. And more Leviathan. And then the Hellhounds were brought in.   
  
When Castiel arrived with three armies of humans and witches, some of the demons and Leviathan quickly retreated to the field for their superiors’ protection. The people of New Harmony rallied against their attackers now that they were strengthened by numbers from Lawrence, giving them a fighting chance. When Gabriel and Charlie appeared with legions of nephilim, the tide of the battle finally turned in the people’s favor. But the real war was going on at the park.   
  
One man, surrounded by snarling Hellhounds, was being used as an example to beat down the human leaders and the nephilim that loved him. Michael celebrated his win too early with his other officers there to witness. Alastair and Dick Roman watched as the nephilim that promised them land and as many humans as they needed, flaunted his power in front of the masses.   


Michael grinned with all the cockiness of a savage as he watched his fellow mage’s dilemma. When Castiel took a mighty breath and the bleachers burst into flames, Michael yelled, “Sic ‘im, boys.”  
  
The Hellhounds dissolved into a snarling, snapping attack, Castiel flinging as many as he could, the giant beasts landing in the bleachers and across the grass with mighty yelps, attacking anything that moved as they got to their feet.  
  
Dean screamed as a hellhound raked its claws down his chest.  
  
Castiel, running, flung the hound away as another took its place. Castiel tried crushing this one, tried throwing it, killing it, but he struggled to grasp this one at all.   
  
The Hellhound roared at him, turned, and sunk its teeth into Dean.  
  
Castiel froze, hearing the crunch, a broken scream that shattered Castiel’s heart, and Dean’s choking gurgles.  
  
The Hellhound yelped as Dean’s body electrified with words all over his skin and the sky rumbled overhead.  
  
A great, ear-splitting whistle ripped through the air.  
  
Everyone, including Michael, stared in shock as Crowley marched determinately onto the field. “Juliet,” he said sternly. “Drop it.”  
  
Castiel chanced one step, eliciting a growl from Juliet.  
  
“So. You stole my dogs,” Crowley shouted accusatorially at Michael.  
  
Michael shrugged.   
  
“That,” Crowley pointed to Dean, “belongs to me as well! Hellhounds will destroy a soul, you MORON!”  
  
Michael’s smug look finally cracked.  
  
“He does NOT belong to you,” Castiel seethed, desperate to take the final steps to Dean.  
  
Crowley’s brows raised. “Who are you?” Castiel’s eyes flared with white light and Crowley took a step back, snapping his fingers. Juliet dropped Dean to the ground.  
  
Castiel surged ahead, dropping to his knees at Dean’s side. He gasped, his hands shaking as he cupped Dean’s face.  
  
Dean did not blink or cough or smirk or cry.  
  
Castiel did not know what to do. Dean was torn. Clawed. Blood saturated his clothes and had sprayed across his pale face and wide-open green eyes.  
  
Dean Winchester was dead.  
  
“NNNNNOOOOOOOO!!!” Castiel screamed, clutching him tight.  
  
He hugged Dean’s limp body to him, his mind reeled, his soul howled, and his grace surged.  
  
It couldn’t be! He was going to fix the contract! Win the war! Marry Dean!  
  
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Castiel screamed again. His grace tumbled and twisted, surging once more. He took no notice of the wave of destruction his pulsing grace was producing. The first surge destroyed the Hellhounds, the second killed most of the demons and Leviathan that had not already gone up in flames. The ground shook and battles in the streets came to an abrupt halt.  
  
Castiel clung to Dean until they fell into the plane between. His wings wrapped around both of them tightly, but still Dean did not take breath. His green eyes stared at him with empty pits.  
  
Castiel screamed again. Desperate, he put his thumb on their sigil. “Deeeeaaan!”  
  
When nothing happened, Castiel’s gasps slowed until he was completely frozen. No. He shook his head. He refused. He refused to let this be. He refused to be without him. He was a fucking nephilim. Part angel. Nothing could stop him from finding Dean.  
  
Including death.  
  
He let his grace rage insanely, tipping into it. Into himself.   
  
Into grace.  



	26. The Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s Dash
> 
> When his tombstone is etched and the years of his life span beginning to end, what mattered most was not his land or collected stash.  
> It was all he did along the dash.
> 
> Though touched by demons, friended by all, it was his love that held his fall.
> 
> Dean marched into a foreign land, collected allies, and raised a stand.
> 
> His dash was cut short by a madman in charge, loved by so many and mourned at large.
> 
> Dean Winchester’s dash was eventful, it’s true. But the love of his sprite was what saw him through.

Chapter 26: The Veil  
  
  
  
Dean stared as he turned in a slow circle.  
  
Something was...off.  
  
Flashes of teeth tearing into his skin jolted his memory, making him stagger to the side, glancing around in paranoia.  
  
But all he could see were hallways.  
  
Gray, muted hallways. Doors lined each one, the only thing breaking them up was the occasional crossing of more hallways.  
  
Doors.  
  
There were so many doors.

The faintest whispers made him turn his head to see if someone were near, but he saw no one. There was a constant sound of wind, but no wind reached him. It was eerie, making his shoulders hunch. It was cold. Cold enough to make him shiver, though he didn’t.  
  
He stared at the door next to him. A symbol was charred into the plain gray.  
  
Huh. He knew that symbol.  
  
It was the sigil on his arm. The first sigil he ever got. A W with a knife across the top. He looked at his forearm, his own thumb going to the sigil by heart.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
He stepped back, catching the briefest glimpse of someone crossing the hall seven or eight doors away.  
  
He blinked, trying to figure out what the hell was happening.  
  
Hellhounds, he remembered with another jolt.  
  
“I fuckin’ died?” Dean swore. “Shit.”  
  
His mind galloped through the memories of his life.  
  
To now.  
  
“Son of a bitch.”  
  
The hallway rattled, everything trembled around him.  
  
The door opened and Dean braced himself against the wall opposite it.  
  
“Dean!”  
  
“Mom!” Dean gasped, part of him terrified to see her, knowing that meant he really was dead. Another part melted, just wanting to hug his mom.  
  
She looked so young. Long, blonde hair, that dress she so often wore.  
  
“Dean! What are you doing here?” Her look of joy was quickly melting into one of confusion.  
  
“I’m...I died,” he managed to choke out.  
  
She held a hand out with a sad smile. “Oh, Dean, come in. I’ll make you a pie.”

Dean took an uncertain step. If he went inside, was he admitting defeat? Laying down his sword? 

The floor trembled beneath his feet, making him back against the wall again. His mom looked down at the floor in confusion. She shook her head. “Something’s wrong!”  
  
The floor trembled and doors rattled as the gray light around them flickered.  
  
“Oh, Dean!” Mary held a hand out to help him.  
  
Dean stared at his mother, his heart breaking with shame. It had to be Crowley coming for him. “I’m, I’m sorry, Mom!”

“Dean!” She shouted, straining to reach him from the doorway.

He licked his lips, desperate to try anything. As soon as Dean’s hands left the support of the wall, the trembling became violent, both of them staggering.  
  
Several doors down, a door ripped open with a mighty bang. Castiel staggered into the quaking hallway. “DEAN!”  
  
“Cas!”  
  
Castiel held his hands out to the walls, appearing to fight some heavy pressure, stepping toward Dean with great effort.  
  
Mary stared at them both in shock.  
  
Unsure what to do, Dean lunged toward Cas. He dove into his arms, holding on tight as the world tipped and they were both sucked into a void before slamming into a hard floor.  
  
“Dean!” Castiel cried, clinging tightly to him.  
  
“Cas! What’s happening?”  
  
Castiel held him tightly, his wings beating hard until whatever was pulling at them stopped, his wings wrapping around them protectively.  
  
“What the bloody hell!”  
  
They both got to their feet, Cas lowering one wing enough that they both could see a very pissed off looking Crowley standing before them.  
  
“This has got to be the worst contract in the HISTORY of worst contracts!” Crowley yelled.  
  
“You can’t have him!” Castiel snarled.  
  
Crowley scoffed angrily. “Who the bloody hell are you?!”  
  
Castiel’s shoulders squared as he held Dean close to his chest. “I am Castiel. A mage of Thursday. And Dean Winchester is not for sale!”  
  
Crowley sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “You destroyed ALL of my hounds!”  
  
“Good,” Cas growled back.  
  
“Some of us barely got out of there before you...” Crowley waved a flippant hand, “blew up the whole place!”  
  
Castiel hugged Dean tight. Dean wondered what exactly happened. “Is my dad okay? Bobby?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Crowley scoffed, starting to pace. “That other nephilim showed up and whisked them, and other people, away.”  
  
“Gabriel?” Castiel asked, his wing dropping a little further.  
  
“Gabriel,” Crowley nodded. “This nephilim,” he pointed at Castiel, “blew the bloody place up. Then the two of you just bloody disappeared! Gabriel blocked most of it and then a whole flock of witches surrounded the pole. And Dean’s body. It’s bloody chaos!”  
  
“Did Michael get killed?” Dean asked.  
  
“Doubtful,” Crowley answered.   
  
“How did you get there?” Dean asked. “And how did you get here? How did we get here?”  
  
“When one of my...clients...dies, we’re both brought here to settle our debts. It’s all there in the contract,” he pointed at Dean, smirking. “Right around the back of your left thigh, if I am not mistaken.” 

Dean swallowed hard. So this was it. His contract was due. He could hear Cas growling as his grip around him tightened. 

Crowley stared at the pair of them, his eyes sliding to a malevolent red. “I see we’re going to have a problem settling our debts.”  
  
Castiel let Dean step out of their embrace, one hand still clamped tightly in his. “Let the contract go and I will let you live.”  
  
Dean did a double-take at Castiel’s wings rising in a threatening poise.  
  
Crowley snarled, pacing back and forth with his eyes trained on Castiel. “You have no right to claim him.”  
  
“He is marked,” Castiel stated stubbornly.  
  
“His body is destroyed!” Crowley yelled. “It dropped back to the ground after you disappeared.” He calmed, an eyebrow arching in a stab of humor. “You’re welcome to take the body.”  
  
The sound of wings made all of them step aside, fearing Michael’s appearance. Equally as shocking, Gabriel appeared looking wrathful as ever.  
  
“Crowley.”  
  
“Gabriel.” Crowley sniped back.  
  
Gabriel met Castiel’s eyes, the pair settling something between them until they both turned eyes full of blue-white light onto Crowley.  
  
Knowing he was outdone; Crowley held his hands up. “I didn’t say we couldn’t negotiate. I’m a business man!”  
  
“Consider yourself out of business,” Gabriel stated.  
  
“If you kill me, his contract goes to my next in line!” Crowley barked, his voice jumping an octave.  
  
“I have no intention of killing you,” Gabriel assured.  
  
Castiel reached an arm out, closing his fist. Crowley began clawing at his own throat, gasping for air as he lifted off of the floor.  
  
“Yet,” Gabriel amended. “I came to see you months ago, Crowley. I told you the demons were organizing.”  
  
“I helped!” Crowley barely managed to choke out.  
  
Gabriel tipped his head. “I don’t feel like you helped.” He looked at Cas. “Do you feel like he helped?”  
  
“No,” Castiel growled.  
  
Dean, as fascinated with this as he was, was staring at his own hands. He was beginning to shift. He could feel it. His form was becoming less solid. “You aren’t helping me,” he said, looking up at Crowley.  
  
“I can!” Crowley gasped, his face red and blotchy, his feet kicking uselessly a foot off the ground.  
  
Castiel let his fist open, Crowley fell to the floor with a ragged gasp. “Start helping. Now.”  
  
Crowley nodded as he adjusted his collar and rubbed his neck. “Fine! But I did help! I refused Alastair and Azazel’s deals! I kept them OUT of Lawrence!”  
  
“Not their underlings,” Gabriel argued.  
  
“I don’t know EVERYONE!” Crowley barked, grimacing at his sore throat.  
  
“No more souls. None. Not Dean. Not any.”  
  
Crowley stared at Gabriel as if he had lost his mind.  
  
Gabriel lifted his fingers to snap them.  
  
“Wait! Wait!” Crowley yelled, stepping closer.  
  
Gabriel lowered his hand.  
  
“I’ll end Dean’s contract, full pardon! I’ll bloody escort him to the veil.”  
  
“Not nearly good enough,” Gabriel shook his head, raising his hand again.  
  
“WAIT!” Crowley panted, growling, knowing he was defeated. “Ten souls.”  
  
“ALL THE SOULS!” The three of them yelled back, Gabriel and Castiel’s eyes glowing brighter as their wings arched.  
  
Dean took a steady breath, staring down the demon. “You have no one to blame but yourself, Crowley. You got greedy.”  
  
Crowley’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.” He snapped his fingers, the room filling with at least twenty people, all mid task. They all glanced around, their eyes bouncing between the enraged nephilim and their master.  
  
“This is every soul I own.”  
  
Gabriel glared at him suspiciously.  
  
“He keeps a list,” one of the people said, pointing to a trunk next to his throne.  
  
Gabriel snapped his fingers. Crowley jumped slightly, but the only thing Gabriel had done was get the list. He read it while Castiel’s eyes never left Crowley.  
  
Gabriel looked around the room. “Forty-two names. Including the last one. One Mr. Dean Winchester.”  
  
Crowley rolled his eyes and his head in ultimate defeat. He snapped his fingers, the rest of his souls popping into the room. “There.” He began snapping, producing contracts, which he burned one at a time. With each contract, the person belonging to it lit up in a blindingly white light and was pulled to the veil.  
  
When the final contract was in Crowley’s hand, Dean felt it as if the demon had a grip around his whole body. His eyes met Crowley’s.  
  
Crowley snapped his fingers and Dean’s body instantly frayed into a thousand pieces. He was sucked into a void, bodiless, wide, and flying.  
  
But he was not flying or falling or being sucked into the unknown alone. He could feel Cas’ presence around him, his wings, his grace, his soul.  
  
They landed in a room that looked like the swan suite. They both stared at each other with wide eyes. They were both back in their body forms but something was definitely off.  
  
Dean glanced out the window, hearing the familiar sounds of the courtyard. He looked out the window. The market was in full swing on a beautiful spring day, vendors from all over had their stands set up. He had a strong urge to take Castiel out to the market and have an amazing afternoon buying things and eating pie.  
  
“This is not Lebanon,” Castiel said, an edge of warning in his voice.  
  
Dean turned from the window. Castiel was wearing his tan coat, white shirt, and black breaches with no stains of blood. No tears. He looked down at his own clothes. No blood. No tears. He pulled his shirt up looking for the scar above his hip where he cut himself falling off of a horse as a kid. No scar. He pulled his sleeve up, revealing all his sigils. His eyes met Cas’.  
  
“I’m dead, aren’t I?”  
  
Castiel’s stoic face softened into a sad, sad stare.  
  
Dean let his sleeve go. His breath caught as he hugged Cas tight. “You aren’t dead though. You have to go back. You have to stop Michael.”  
  
Castiel hugged him tight. “I don’t care about Michael.”  
  
Dean wanted to cry. Like, bawl. But he fought it, pulling back to look into the blue eyes he had fallen so in love with. “You have to, Cas! What about Sam? Adam? Gabriel? Lawrence!”  
  
Castiel looked sick with grief. He did not agree. But he did not argue either.  
  
“Cas! You gotta go back.”  
  
Castiel cupped his face in his hands. “I will go. And I will fight until this war is over.”  
  
A tear slid down Dean’s cheek. “And then you’ll live whatever kind of life you want, Cas! You could be Mage of Thursday! You could have a family.”  
  
Castiel shook his head slowly. “There is only you. And the war. I will be...home, as soon as Michael is defeated.”

“But Cas!”

Castiel broke. He cried, pulling Dean into a fierce hug.

“The world needs you, Cas!” Dean hugged him tightly, kissing his temple, pulling back from his tight embrace, kissing his cheek, his mouth, staring at him, more heart broken than he ever thought possible. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you.”

The pair stared at each other.  
  
Dean felt a pulse deep inside him. He frowned.  
  
He felt another pulse, harder, so hard he gasped, doubling over.  
  
“What is it?” Cas asked, supporting him.  
  
Dean shook his head in confusion, his mouth gaping open as another pulse surged, making him feel faint, fragmented.  
  
The door burst open. “Dean!”  
  
“Mom,” Dean gasped weakly.  
  
She couldn’t come in, but she waved them out.  
  
“Wha?” He barely managed, his knees going weak, feeling like they had dissolved.  
  
Castiel swept him up into his arms, facing the woman he didn’t know.  
  
“Are you Dean’s husband?” Mary grinned.  
  
“Not yet,” Castiel answered, looking confused.  
  
Dean gasped as another pulse throbbed, his entire chest fragmenting.  
  
“What is happening?!” Castiel yelled, struggling to hold onto him.  
  
“Bring him to the hall!” Mary yelled, another woman stepping behind her.  
  
Castiel swept out of the room, into the cold, gray hallway. People stood in doorways peeking down the hall for as far as he could see in both directions.  
  
“Take him back!” Mary instructed, gripping her son’s hand as she smiled down at him.  
  
Dean’s head lolled to the side. “Mom.”  
  
She smiled harder, brushing his hair back with the fondness and care of a mother. Dean smiled weakly, his eyes moving over to the other woman. “Grandma?”  
  
“Dean,” the other woman grinned at him fondly. “We are so proud of you!”  
  
“Grandma Deanna?” Dean said weakly, grinning as she kissed his forehead. He had not seen her since he was young.  
  
“So proud,” Mary added, kissing his hand before she laid it gently on his chest, then cupped Castiel’s cheek. “Thank you.” She looked back at Dean. “I love you. Tell Sam I am so proud of him and that I love him!”  
  
A woman came into the hallway, short, with short black hair and tan skin.  
  
Deanna and Mary stepped back into their doorway, seeing her marching toward them. All the others peeking out of their doors stepped back inside still peeking through their cracked doors as the floor trembled and the lights flickered.  
  
“It’s the witch, Linda Tran!” Mary whispered hastily.  
  
Castiel’s wings arched as she neared them. With her came an eerie, haunting chant of many voices. As they raised to a loud word Castiel did not recognize, a pulse thrummed through Dean’s body, making him scream out in pain and arch in Castiel’s arms.  
  
Castiel gripped Dean tight, cradling him as he stepped back in panic.  
  
“What are you doing?” The witch snapped at him.  
  
Castiel’s mouth opened, but he had no idea what to say. He really had no idea what he was doing!  
  
“They’re calling him back!” Linda ordered, pointing the opposite direction as other witches gathered behind her, joining the chant that Castiel could feel wrapping around his ankles, legs, climbing around his waist, encircling him and Dean completely.  
  
Castiel stopped fighting the magic that gripped his wings.  
  
Linda smiled with a curt nod. “Now, get out of my veil. Your room will be ready when you both are meant to be here.”  
  
“Thank you,” Castiel said nervously.  
  
“I love you, Dean!” Mary yelled from her door.  
  
Dean’s hand waved lamely before he curled into Castiel, who gripped him tight.  
  
“Cas?” He asked weakly.  
  
“Hold on, my love. I’m taking you home.”  
  
Castiel let his grace weave into the magic that gripped them both. He let go, the pair of them falling, falling, falling until they both burst into being.   
  
Castiel gasped, coming to, lying flat on his back in the grass, blood spraying from his mouth.  
  
Dean gasped, coming to, lying flat on his back in the grass. He arched, his body lifting from one last pull from the veil. Another surge ran through him, the chant ringing in his ears. Nephilim were crowded around him, clutching his arms, legs, head, pressing on his chest and abdomen. Circled around the nephilim were more witches than Dean had ever seen. All of them chanted the now familiar call for the return of his soul to his body.  
  
Dean’s body dropped completely to the ground as the witches last command was chanted. Whole. He was whole. 

He was back.  
  
The world was so bright, colorful. Everything was loud and the cold air made Dean shiver. He smelled blood and dirt and air. Fresh air. He took a deep breath, blinking.

The nephilim backed away, their eyes wide as they all stared at him. The witches’ chant stopped as they all watched in happy wonder at Dean staring around at them all in shock. He sat up, pulling his shirt up. The Hellhound claw marks were gone. The scar above his hip was still there.  
  
He was back!  
  
He scrambled to his feet as Gabriel pulled Castiel to his. Crowley stood to the side, seeming to be waiting for something.  
  
“Cas!”  
  
Castiel blinked his eyes as he stared at Dean with an open mouth. “Dean!”  
  
Nephilim stepped back as the pair hugged. Dean let out a relieved breath, feeling Cas against him like normal. Like before. They kissed, tears of happiness wetting their cheeks.  
  
Dean pulled his sleeve up, needing to see the sigil that had given him direction and hope. Castiel did the same. They clasped arms, thumbs stroking each other’s sigils as they kissed again to the cheer of the nephilim and witches around them.  
  
Castiel, looking so much smaller with his wings away, put his arm around Dean as the pair stared around them.   
  
“Dean!” Sam cried, plowing into his brother with a fierce hug. Dean laughed at his big moose of a brother kissing his head amongst a torrent of ‘You’re back! I was so scared! You died! You were dead! But you’re here!”  
  
“I’m okay, Sammy!” Dean said incredulously, hugging his brother tightly.  
  
His dad was next, hugging him, holding on for a long moment as Sam moved over, hugging Cas, thanking him.  
  
“Dean, we thought we lost you!” John said shakily, wiping tears from his cheeks.  
  
“You did,” Dean admitted. “I was in the veil.” He turned to Sam. “I saw Mom.”  
  
Sam stared at him in shock. “You saw Mom?”  
  
“Yeah!” Dean stifled a hysterical laugh. “She said to tell you she loves you and she’s proud of you.”  
  
Sam’s face wilted into tears as Dean hugged him again. “She was so pretty, Sam. Happy. Healthy. She’s good, Sam! And I saw Grandma Campbell!”  
  
Sam stepped back, still staring in wonder. “You did?”  
  
“They helped us return,” Castiel added, still looking as awe-struck as Dean felt.  
  
Dean leaned over, looking around his dad at Bobby standing there. His face held a look of shock, his hat clutched in his hands and tears in his eyes. Dean stepped around his dad, hugging Bobby tightly.  
  
“Thought I lost you, boy,” Bobby said, his voice trembling as he clutched Dean, rocking him back and forth. Dean’s eyes watered again, hugging him tightly.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dean hiccuped.  
  
Bobby held him at arm’s length with a haunted look in his eyes.   
  
Dean grinned, still shaky. “I’m good, Bobby!”  
  
Bobby hugged him again before letting him go with a relieved smile.  
  
In the circle of witches surrounding all of them, a petite witch with long, curly, red hair lifted her arms high, throwing her head back. She shouted, “Guardians of the east, south, west, and north, I thank each of you in perfect love and perfect trust! This circle is now released!”  
  
Dean had no idea what to think. Charlie, who had been standing next to the witch who had spoken, came running to them, hugging them. Missouri came next, kissing them both on the cheek.  
  
“Dean! Castiel!” Charlie exclaimed, “This is my grandmother, Rowena! She brought her whole coven! And all the witches that came from Lawrence to fight, helped too!”  
  
“You...you did this?” Castiel asked, both he and Dean still staring around in bewilderment.  
  
Rowena smiled wide. “Well, we did have some help. The sprites healed your body. The witches fetched your soul. And my son,” she gave Crowley an admonishing glare through her long lashes, “released your contract. I would say it was quite the team effort!”  
  
Witches and nephilim parted easily for Gabriel to make his way to them. “You good? Are you back? Got all your parts?”  
  
Castiel and Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” they both nodded.  
  
Gabriel deflated in relief, hugging Cas. “That was intense.”  
  
Castiel chuckled, hugging Gabriel back. “Yes. It was.”  
  
Dean glanced around at all the nephilim and witches that milled about in the field. The stands that had been full of demons and Leviathan were now empty, singed and partially destroyed. The grass was scorched to the earth in many places and the stage Michael had been on was broken and still smoldered in flames. The post still stood, the chain dangling from it, broken with the open cuff lying in the dirt.  
  
“Is, is Michael dead?” Dean asked, a shiver running through him.  
  
Sam put a protective arm around him. “No. He got away. But Dad and Bobby killed Dick Roman, the leader of the Leviathans. And Cas killed all the demons and Leviathan that were here.”  
  
Dean turned to Cas. The last thing he had seen was Cas running toward him across the field, huge balls of fire that must have been Hellhounds flying and burning. “The Hellhounds?”  
  
“I destroyed them,” Castiel said gravely. “All of them.”  
  
Dean grinned. Damn. His pride in him overflowing.  
  
“You were in the veil?” Charlie asked gently, Rowena still standing by her side, joined by Jo now, who was covered in red and black blood from battling in the streets of New Harmony.  
  
“We were,” Dean said, thinking back on the long, gray halls. He grinned at the witches. “We met Linda Tran.”  
  
“You did not!” Both women gasped.  
  
Castiel grinned. “She is quite formidable.”  
  
Both red-heads exchanged grins that were part awe and a lot of giddiness.  
  
“Do you know how lucky you are?” Charlie burst, socking Dean on the shoulder. “She is the witch of ALL witches!”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” Gabriel interjected, winking at Charlie, then giving Rowena a sly grin which she batted her eyes at, preening under his praise.  
  
Charlie tilted her head at him, one shoulder rising in shy glee. “So not true. But thank you.”  
  
Gabriel turned to Dean and Cas as he wrapped an arm around Charlie. “You missed some crazy shit while you were busy with Michael.”  
  
Dean and Cas looked between the two, questions barely able to form before Jo shoved her way between the two. “Gabriel damn near killed Charlie, they saved her, and now they have some freaky bond I’m not too sure I like,” Jo pouted.  
  
Charlie kissed her temple, hugging her tight. “His bond has nothing on you!”  
  
“Hm,” Jo grinned, kissing Charlie.  
  
Gabriel smirked, inserting himself between the pair, arms around both their shoulders. “I think I like having two bad-ass women at my side!”  
  
Jo and Charlie both grinned at him, kissing his cheeks.  
  
“Guess I could get used to having a sprite around,” Jo admitted.  
  
John approached the group with Bobby, Sam, and a thin man that neither Cas nor Dean knew.  
  
“Boys, this is Garth Fitzgerald the fourth,” Bobby introduced. “He’s the local mayor of New Harmony.”  
  
“Hey!” Garth waved with a wide, friendly, but tired grin. “Just wanted to meet the men who died and came back to life! Pretty amazing! And,” he said, turning to Castiel, “thank you for coming to help us. We were really taking a beating before you guys showed up.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “I am glad we could help.”  
  
“Sure as shootin’!” Came Donna’s shocked voice as she weaved her way through the crowd. “There you are! Breathin’ and...talkin’!” She hugged Dean and then Cas. “I never saw such craziness!” She whispered loudly, glancing around the field. Her clothes were stained with blood and her arm was bandaged from an injury. “Beats hangin’ out with the chickens, I’ll tell ya that much!”  
  
Dean shook his head, grinning. “Donna! You were fighting?”  
  
“Scha!” She scoffed, waving him off. “I was winning!” She high-fived Jody Mills, who had snuck in behind her. “Ellen, me, and Jodes cleared a whole block on our own, thank you very much!”  
  
Dean stared at her in shock. The cook he had practically grown up with was a full-blown war hero bad-ass.  
  
“Me and Donna go way back,” Jody grinned.  
  
“Yes, we do,” Donna grinned proudly.  
  
“My head is freakin’ spinning!” Dean grinned.  
  
“Please, know you are all welcome here any time!” Garth piped in. “I better get back to my wife.”  
  
They all waved, and he disappeared through the crowd.  
  
“Nice guy,” Bobby grinned.  
  
“Yeah,” John agreed. “Especially for a werewolf.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Garth is a werewolf?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Donna nodded. “They were awesome against the Leviathan. The werewolves came in and started rippin’ their heads right off!”  
  
Jody and Jo nodded.  
  
“Yeah, and shapeshifters would turn into demon-looking people and kill the unsuspecting demons!” John added. “It was the craziest battle I’ve ever been in.”  
  
All Dean could do was stare and listen to all the stories. For as bloody as the battle had been, it was completely a win for the people of Freeland and Lawrence.  
  
After listening to all their stories, Dean was exhausted.  
  
“I need to help take people home,” Castiel said, walking Dean over to a fairly intact section of bleachers.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, not liking the idea of Cas leaving him for a second.  
  
Cas stopped them, turning Dean to look at him. “You will know exactly where I am. Just feel for it. We’re bonded, Dean. It happened on our way to the veil.”  
  
Dean frowned. He knew he felt incredibly close to Cas. They had just beaten death, together! But hearing they were bonded surprised him for a brief moment. Then he grinned. Yeah. They were bonded. He could feel it.  
  
“I will be with you as soon as I can. I want to return to the bunker with you. I feel like we need the time. Michael will resurface again all too soon.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Alright. I’ll just wait here.”  
  
Cas leaned in, kissing him. “I love you too, Dean.”  
  
Dean grinned.  
  
Cas looked down at their hands. “It was the last thing you said to me before...”  
  
“I died,” Dean smirked. “Dude. I died! My contract is gone! I’m...fuckin’ here!”  
  
Castiel grinned, meeting his eyes. “Yes, you are.” He pulled Dean in, kissing him again and then disappeared.  
  
Dean huffed. “We are so gonna work on that.” Finding himself standing somewhat alone, he glanced around the field until he saw Sam. He headed over to him, watching as he fussed over a pretty brunnette sitting on the ground with a make-shift brace from thigh to foot.  
  
“Hey,” he said, smiling at both of them.  
  
“Dean!” Sam stood up, still grinning wide. “This is Maddison. She’s from New Harmony. Here. She’s from here.”  
  
Dean grinned down at the brunnette. “Nice to meet you, Maddison.”  
  
“You too,” she said, a look of awe dampening her smile. “Did you really die?”  
  
“I did,” Dean said, still shocked about it.  
  
“Wow. That sprite really loves you.”  
  
Dean sat down next to her, helping Sam to finish tying a bandage onto her arm. “Yes, he does.”  
  
“We could hear all this crashing and banging and then this wave of...I don’t even know what it was, ripped through the air and the demons and Leviathans closest to the field, to him, just...it just...shoved the demon out of them and the demons died! It was crazy! The demons I was fighting would have killed me.”

Sam gave her a pained look, which she shook her head at. “No, I was one stab away from being killed. But the demons were gone and I hobbled my way to the field and he was burning these balls of...I don’t know what they were!”

“Hellhounds,” Dean said quietly. The memories haunting him.

Sam met his eyes. “I heard the booms too. I was fighting off demons with Dad when this group of nephilim captured him and Bobby.” He gave him a guilty look. “I couldn’t stop them. I was with Jo and we...hid.”

Dean nodded. “It’s okay, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “I should have done more. I couldn’t kill them, so...I hid Jo...and myself behind a wagon that was tipped over.”

“That was smart,” Dean assured him.

Sam’s mouth twisted with guilt. As soon as they were gone, we followed them. But we got cornered by some Leviathan. Some werewolves helped us out of that mess and then we heard the booming. When I got to the field...”

Dean swallowed hard, imagining his baby brother seeing him get killed by the hounds.

“But you were gone. Gabriel had shown up and had gotten Dad and Bobby out of there. He, uh...finished off the few demons that were hangin’ on and then he disappeared.”

Dean nodded, slowly putting the story together in his mind. “He came to help me and Cas with the contract with Crowley.”

“He did?” Sam asked, glancing around for the sprite. “He showed up again with Crowley but by then Charlie and Missouri and all these witches were forming the circle.” He shook his head. “I had no idea what was happening. Me and Bobby just waited where they told us to and Gabriel showed up with these nephilim.”

“We’re lucky Gabriel was there,” Dean admitted. “He really gave Crowley hell. Cas too.”

Sam nodded. “Everyone worked together. Humans, witches, nephilim, werewolves -“

“Even dead witches from the veil,” Dean added, haunted by the memory of Linda tran and her coven crowded into the hallway chanting. “And even Crowley. He coulda fought harder. He let all his contracts go. Not just mine. And apparently he’s been stalling Azazel and Alastair for a long time.”

“Wow, so even demons,” Sam added, turning his attention back to Maddison with an apologetic grin. “It’s pretty amazing when we all work together.”

“I thought it was just sprites versus humans,” Maddison said quietly. “Then the demons and Leviathan. But I never saw anything like that sprite tearing up that field for...you.”

Dean grinned at her, unable to keep his cocky grin tamed. “I know, right?”  
  
Sam grinned tightly.  
  
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be loved like that,” she said quietly, letting Sam ease her arm into a sling he had made from his own shirt.  
  
“It’s...” Dean shrugged his shoulders. He could feel Cas flying. He was in the Highlands, returning a lot of people. He took a deep breath, feeling him return. He was across the field, Bobby gathering a group of people for him to take as Gabriel returned as well. “It’s pretty incredible.”  
  
Sam sat on her other side, wiping a cut on her hand. “I always thought people from Lawrence hated us. But so many of you came to help.”  
  
Dean nodded. “This war is on all of us.”  
  
She hissed as Sam winced while wiping a deeper part of the cut. Her eyes lingered on him as he whispered apologies and cradled her hand in his. She smiled at him. “It’s okay, Sam. Thank you for helping me.”  
  
Sam blushed. “Yeah! Of course!”  
  
Dean looked between the two, a grin sliding slowly into place. Sam caught it, blushing more as his eyes darted back to her hand.  
  
Dean felt a pull in his chest and knew Cas had just left again. Lebanon. Dean grinned, comforted that he knew Cas was okay.  
  
“So, you like Garth?” Sam asked Maddison.  
  
“Oh yeah. He’s such a goofball. But he runs this town really well.”  
  
“Are you...human?” Sam asked. “Not that I care! I’m just curious.”  
  
Maddison grinned at him, tucking hair behind her ear. “What if I’m not?” She asked with a flirty grin.  
  
Sam stammered, blushing again. “It’s, whatever you are is awesome! I mean, beautiful! It’s...wooo,” he frowned down at her braced leg. “Is that strap too tight?”  
  
Maddison giggled as Dean closed his eyes in second-hand embarrassment for his brother.  
  
“It’s fine,” she assured him, her smile sobering as she stared at him. “And...I’m a werewolf.”  
  
“Oh!” Sam’s face lit up. “I love wolves! NICE wolves! I mean, they’re like really big dogs and dogs are nice!”  
  
Dean cringed.   
  
Sam blushed.  
  
Maddison laughed hard. “Not quite! But...good to know you aren’t going to shoot me,” she managed after several minutes of laughing.  
  
“Sorry,” Sam mumbled.  
  
Maddison smiled at him, seeming to find him as adorable as a puppy. “It’s okay. If you carry me home, I might let you make it up to me. We could...have a cup of tea.”  
  
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “It’s...what? Okay! I’ll take you home!”  
  
Dean watched as Sam lifted the girl easily, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back, Dean! I’m just gonna help Maddison get home.”  
  
“You go have fun,” Dean chuckled, watching his brother walk through the scarred field, making his way back to town.  
  
His dad came over, watching Sam walk away. He turned to Dean with a lopsided grin. He came to sit next to him, both watching the scene around them.  
  
“I didn’t know Sam was into women.”  
  
Dean quirked a brow at his dad. “He is today.”  
  
John nodded. “Huh.”  
  
Dean bit his lip, fighting the urge to tell him she was also a werewolf. But the crush could be just a little crush. And it was Sam’s news to share if it became something more.  
  
“You alright?” His dad asked quietly.  
  
Dean nodded. “I saw Mom.”  
  
His dad nodded, his hand sliding along their family sigil subconsciously. “I heard you tell Sam.”  
  
“Yeah. She, uh...she looked good. Happy.”  
  
Dean was not surprised to see his dad swipe tears off of his cheeks.   
  
“I miss her so bad.” John looked away, laughing off a cry. “She was my world.”  
  
Dean nodded. “I know. She knows.”  
  
John licked his lips, obviously fighting off more he had to say. “Don’t think I ever saw anyone love someone as much as that sprite loves you though.”  
  
Dean stared at his dad.  
  
“I’m sorry for the things I said about sprites. And you. And...so many things.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Wow.”  
  
John nodded with a tiny laugh. “I really am a jerk sometimes.”  
  
“You really are,” Dean grinned.  
  
John rolled his eyes, grinning as he looked away. His smile sobered as he looked back at his son. “I really am sorry. He truly does love you.”  
  
Dean pursed his lips as he nodded. “So...if I decide to have kids with him...are you gonna -”  
  
“I’m gonna be the best grandparent there ever was. It’ll help make up for the times I was a shitty dad.”  
  
Dean sighed. “You weren’t a shitty dad.”  
  
John leveled a look at him.  
  
“Most of the time,” Dean laughed. “Just some of the time.”  
  
John grinned, nodding. “All I know is, I don’t ever want to see my own son die again.” He looked at the ground guiltily. “I said some pretty awful things.”  
  
Dean held his tongue.  
  
“Some stupid, hurtful things.”  
  
“Yeah. You did.”  
  
John licked his lips, meeting Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Dean nodded; his mouth tight. “Did Cas have to almost die for me for you to figure that out?”  
  
John sighed guiltily. “I don’t know what else to say, Dean. I guess that’s what it took. I’m...”  
  
“A dick,” Dean huffed.  
  
John nodded. “And we’re back to that.”  
  
Dean shifted his tight shoulders, feeling Cas return. “I’m bonded to him. I’m marked. We have a family-starter marked Winchester. We have a sigil. He dove right into death to get me.”  
  
John nodded. “And he’s still out there working.”  
  
Dean grinned, watching him leave with a host of nephilim. “He wants to save humanity.”  
  
“We’re damn lucky to have him and the Trickster on our side.”  
  
Dean shook his head a little. “Gabriel.”  
  
“Gabriel,” John amended.  
  
Dean sighed, feeling exhausted inside. His body had been torn apart and put back together and he felt it.  
  
Both men jumped when Cas appeared suddenly right in front of them.  
  
“Dean,” Cas said, ignoring their gasps, “are you alright?”  
  
“I’m tired,” Dean admitted, his voice weak as his eyes grew heavy.  
  
Cas knelt in front of him, the pair clasping forearms, touching their foreheads together. Dean took a deep breath, taking the strength Cas gave him. He opened his eyes, feeling the fragility of the added strength. “Take me home?”  
  
“Of course,” Cas whispered, kissing him chastely.  
  
“Mind if I ride along?” John interrupted.  
  
Castiel turned hard eyes onto him, making John’s brows jump in surprise. Castiel’s mouth grew tight as his head pivoted slightly. He reached out, palm flat on John’s chest and shoved him, John disappeared.  
  
Dean, stunned, jerked his eyes back to Cas. “What did you do to him?”  
  
“I sent him home. Alone.” Cas stood, pulling Dean to his feet. “I am too angry to talk to him right now.”  
  
Dean’s mouth stayed hanging open. “Dude!”  
  
“He’ll be fine. He can walk back to the bunker.”  
  
“Walk? Where exactly did you send him?”  
  
Castiel’s hard look softened into tinges of guilt. “The road where we used to come into Lebanon.”  
  
Dean scoffed a laugh. “The guy just sat here and apologized for the shit he said to me about you.”  
  
Castiel’s look of guilt slid into one of assurance. “Good. I could easily send him to The Empty.”  
  
“Cas,” Dean warned.  
  
“I am only joking.”  
  
Dean would have to take his word for it. “We should get him.”  
  
Castiel squared his shoulders, his ashy wings spreading wide. “Fine. But I’m sending Samuel back to the Compound. He annoys me.”  
  
Dean grinned. “He annoys everyone.”  
  
Gabriel suddenly appeared. “What’s goin’ on?”  
  
“We are leaving. We are both exhausted.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “I’m gonna finish taking people home. The Legion of Mondays I can’t take home are going to a town nearby that agreed to house them until we can get back to Haven. Then I’ll be joining you at the bunker. Apparently, I have witch business to take care of now that I’m bonded to Charlie.”  
  
“Better keep an eye out for Jo,” Dean warned with a grin.  
  
“She already threatened to kill me.” Gabriel laughed. “Ya know, Michael told me that and I laughed in his face. And plotted how I would kill him first. But Jo told me the same thing and I seriously feel paranoid about the little blonde. She’s gutsy!”  
  
Dean and Cas grinned, knowing Jo would never really hurt Gabriel.  
  
“Go, brother,” Gabriel said more gently. “You need rest. Tomorrow will be a new day.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “Thank you for helping me.”  
  
Gabriel smirked. “As if one pesky demon was going to take our Dean down.”  
  
“Our Dean,” Dean quipped.  
  
“Bonded,” Gabriel pointed between the two of them. “I see it all over you. It’s intense. Like, WAY more than me and Charlie. More than any bond I’ve ever seen, actually. So, anyhoo, yeah. That shit makes us family, Dean Winchester.”  
  
Dean grinned. “Gotta say I’m pretty damn good with that. Gabe.”  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “This kid. Oh! Speaking of kids, tell Adam I kept my word and I’ll see him soon.”  
  
“Will do,” Dean nodded. “If you see Sam, would you bring him home?”  
  
“Gladly,” Gabriel winked, disappearing.  
  
Castiel wrapped Dean into a steady hug, the pair sliding into the other plane. Dean immediately reached out to bury his fingers into Castiel’s wing, feeling him take a contented breath.  
  
They appeared several moments later in the courtyard.  
  
A welcoming cheer surrounded them. The news had already begun to spread about their victory and the incredible feat Castiel and Gabriel had accomplished, rescuing Dean.  
  
Castiel snapped his fingers, one grumpy-looking John appearing mid step beside them. He took a wary step away from Cas, turning to the sudden outburst of welcome from the crowd around them. John smiled, waving to them all as Kate emerged, hugging him tight.  
  
“Dad!” Adam yelled, hugging him. “DEAN!” He ran to him, jumping up for a hug that Dean had to admit felt pretty damn good.  
  
“I’m alright,” he assured, feeling his little brother cry hard and cling to him. “I’m alright.”  
  
“Did you die?” Adam sat up, scrubbing the tears away. “Did you?”  
  
Dean hesitated. “I went to the veil. It’s real, Adam.”  
  
Adam stared at him.  
  
“I saw my mom and my grandma,” he grinned.  
  
Adam smiled slower. “So...you didn’t stay with your mom?”  
  
“No,” Dean grinned. “I had too much to do.”  
  
Adam slumped onto him, hugging him more loosely. “I’m glad.”  
  
“And Cas came to get me.”  
  
Adam sat up, looking at Cas in wonder. “You did that?”  
  
“I did,” Castiel grinned. “And Gabriel says to tell you he kept his word and he will see you soon.”  
  
Adam beamed as Dean put him down. He hugged Cas and then took his dad’s hand.  
  
Castiel waved to the jubilant crowd and disappeared with Dean, appearing in the swan suite. Castiel snapped a few times, undressing them, cleaning them, and they got into the large, comfortable bed.  
  
Dean cuddled next to him, still shocked to be alive. He felt Cas shudder. Looking at him in the early dark of evening, he realized Cas was crying.  
  
He leaned over him, wiping the tears away as they fell, kissing him tenderly.  
  
“I almost lost you.”  
  
“But you didn’t,” Dean assured him.  
  
Castiel hugged him tight, turning them to their sides so they faced each other. “I’m still terrified of losing you!”  
  
Dean still felt shell-shocked from the day. He held Castiel’s hand in his, kissing it. “Remember when I tied some twine around your wrist and connected it to mine? When you were afraid you would disappear into a cat?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel said quietly.  
  
“Well, now that we bonded, we always have that tie. I knew everywhere you went today since then.”  
  
Castiel grinned. “I knew you felt tired.”  
  
“And I have my soul out of that damned contract, so...when I die, I know where I’ll see you again.”  
  
Castiel nodded, relaxing. “Gabriel has ‘arrested’ Crowley. He lost his post in Needham and is being placed in Whitefish in Freeland to run the port town there. No more demons of any kind allowed in Lawrence.”  
  
“I’m surprised Gabriel didn’t kill him.”  
  
Castiel grinned. “He would have, but apparently Crowley is Rowena’s son. That makes him Charlie’s uncle. And the pair asked that he be punished instead of killed. And since Charlie and Gabriel now have a bond of sorts, I doubt he will do anything she doesn’t want him to.”  
  
Dean chuckled. Charlie in charge of the Mage of Monday!  
  
Castiel grinned. “She was already powerful. With his bond, she stands to be the most powerful witch since Linda Tran.”  
  
“Linda,” Dean shivered. “Talk about one bad-ass mama.”  
  
Castiel nodded.   
  
“So...will Gabriel be more powerful since he shares a bond with Charlie?”  
  
Castiel frowned in the dark. “Yes. I suppose that is possible.”  
  
“Good.” Dean settled in against Castiel. “We need it. We are stopping that madman.”  
  
Without another word, Castiel held Dean tight to him, both of them falling fast asleep.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting near the end, my friends! This was the scariest thing I ever wrote!
> 
> Lots of love! <3


	27. Lebanon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers get a moment to breathe before war rages again.

Chapter 27: Lebanon  
  
  
Castiel woke early, having only slept Dean’s required four hours. He turned, feeling spoiled in the warmth and comfort of Dean. As he blinked into wakefulness, he followed the way the sunlight lit a strip of skin from Dean’s shoulder down to his bent elbow. Dust motes danced in the morning light and the only sounds were muted, distant noises from outside.  
  
The only thing he had moved was his eyelids; his arm still hanging limply over Dean’s waist. His hand lay warm and curled against Dean’s abdomen, which moved in and out gently with his breathing.   
  
“Remember the night we spent at Ellen’s?”  
  
Castiel felt the rest of his own face wake up as his jaw shifted, then stretched into a yawn. “Yes,” he mumbled, his brain still moving sluggishly to catch up to Dean, who was already awake. Castiel wondered how Dean even knew he was awake.  
  
“We talked about moving to Haven.”  
  
Castiel blinked several times, recounting the night that felt like a lifetime ago. “I believe you asked me if I would be moving back. But that was when I thought I was still Mage of Thursday.”  
  
Dean lifted his chin, his shoulders shifting. Castiel lifted his arm and leaned slightly, allowing Dean the space to move to his back, where he wedged himself flat and slightly tipped toward him. Castiel grinned at the soft look on his face, the green of his eyes, and the inviting curve of his lips that he could not, and would not, ignore. He leaned down and kissed him. Their lips pressing for a long moment before Castiel pulled away with another grin. Dean was already deep in thought, his brow smooth but a distant look in his eyes. He smoothed his thumb over his cheekbone, wondering just when he fell in love with freckles.  
  
“Yeah, but it’s your home. And -”  
  
“You are my home, Dean. I do not care where we live.”  
  
Dean’s eyes met his before blinking away again. “Well, this is where I grew-up. Lebanon. But...now that I’ve seen the world...I’m not sure how attached I am to living here anymore.”  
  
Castiel ran his thumb along Dean’s lower lip and over the rise of his chin before he snuggled in closer, letting his hand slide to rest along Dean’s side.  
  
“I haven’t really thought much about it,” Castiel admitted.  
  
Dean’s eyes met his as his head turned toward him. “I know we still have a war to win. But...someday...I want something more. Something that’s ours. A place of our own. And...kids.”  
  
Castiel’s insides curled into a tight knot of happiness.   
  
He was awake now.  
  
He stared at Dean, amazed at his strength and unwavering belief that the world was worth bringing more life into.  
  
“W-we can do that!” Castiel laughed, his eyes misting with joy.   
  
Dean grinned for the first time. “I want to live, Cas. Really live. I almost died. I did die. And...I don’t wanna waste what extra life I was given.”  
  
Castiel’s heart leapt. There was a moment when they were in the veil that he would have laid his life down. Stopped. Ceased to be, so he could stay with Dean. “We won’t waste our lives, Dean. But we have much to do.”  
  
Dean reached up, stroking Castiel’s face, both of them still grinning.   
  
“HELLLLOOOO!”  
  
Dean and Castiel’s faces fell as they both turned toward the bedroom door.  
  
“Why is Gabriel here already?” Castiel groaned, his head dropping back to his pillow.  
  
“Why is he so fuckin’ chipper?” Dean growled.  
  
The bedroom door opened, Gabriel’s head popping through. “Thought I’d find you here!”  
  
Dean glared at him.  
  
“Get out, Gabriel,” Castiel sighed.  
  
Dean dropped his head back down, snuggling into Castiel’s side, Castiel wrapping his arm around him.  
  
“It’s time to get up. Did you know Donna MAKES breakfast EVERY morning here? From flour and eggs and freshly made dough! Every day!”  
  
“Yes, I know,” Dean moaned.  
  
“It’s nuts! And THEN...she makes dinner!” Gabriel threw his arms out, eyes wide with true shock.  
  
Castiel fought a grin. “She is quite talented.”  
  
“Talented?” Gabriel scoffed. “She deserves a damn reward!”  
  
“Here’s an idea,” Dean said sarcastically, “why don’t you go give her one.”  
  
Gabriel smirked. “Apparently I did. I cleaned, and made breakfast for everyone.” He puffed his chest out, looking quite proud of himself. “She said I’m her new favorite.”  
  
Castiel grinned. “That’s wonderful.”  
  
“Come on! Time to eat!” Gabriel insisted.  
  
Castiel’s demeanor darkened. “I suggest you start without us.”  
  
Gabriel leaned against the door frame with a smirk.  
  
Castiel raised one brow and snapped his fingers.  
  
Dean sat up abruptly as Gabriel disappeared. His head snapped back to Castiel. “What did you do?”  
  
Castiel grinned at the thrill. “I sent him to the dining room.”  
  
Gabriel reappeared looking perturbed. “You did not just do that!”  
  
“I’m not ready for breakfast,” Castiel grinned.  
  
Gabriel put his hands on his hips with a huff as Dean chuckled.  
  
Gabriel narrowed his eyes as Castiel shifted comfortably on the bed, sliding his hand over to run one finger up Dean’s wrist.  
  
Dean turned to look at him, his amusement shifted into a sly grin.  
  
“Oh no,” Gabriel huffed. “We -”  
  
Castiel snapped, Gabriel disappearing again. Dean laughed, turning to lean over him. “You’re going to get in trouble!”  
  
Castiel laughed into a kiss, pulling Dean into him.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” Gabriel yelled, suddenly there again. “You made me spill orange juice all over John! Like he isn’t grouchy enough!”  
  
Castiel turned, putting Dean on his back. “I suggest you leave, Gabriel,” Castiel warned.  
  
Castiel met Dean’s eyes, a thrill rising inside him as Dean gave him a devilish grin, his cheeks pinking as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips.  
  
“Ya know there’s a big meeting in like half an hour,” Gabriel said snidely.  
  
“Oooo,” Dean whispered. “Half an hour!”  
  
Castiel grinned, kissing him.  
  
“Cas!” Gabriel’s complaints were cut off suddenly as Castiel snapped his fingers.   
  
Dean’s head craned back, his mouth opening deliciously as Castiel gripped his cock firmly beneath their thick covers. Dean’s hips canted immediately. While they were hidden under the covers, it was still a risk that Gabriel might return. Castiel grinned at the flutter of wings marking Gabriel’s return as Dean’s eyes widened.  
  
“I’ve had about -” Gabriel’s words choked off. “Never mind. I’ll send myself this time.”  
  
Castiel heard the snap of fingers and flutter of wings that marked Gabriel’s exit.  
  
Dean groaned beautifully. “You planning on jacking me off in front of your brother?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t have to move a bit,” Castiel grinned, his grin only growing as Dean blinked and huffed as he fought to meet and hold Castiel’s eye.   
  
Dean grinned like a shark. “You gonna make me work for it?” He canted his hips again, his cock rutting into his hand, making Castiel grin anew.  
  
“No, love. Just lie back and enjoy it.”  
  
Dean gave him a curious look, his hips relaxing and sinking into the bed. Castiel pulsed a wave of lust, Dean’s eyes going wide then squinting with a naughty grin. “What was that?” He panted.  
  
Castiel pet a hand through Dean’s hair, watching him. Seeing his skin flush, sweat tinge his brow, Cas pulsed again, watching Dean’s mouth drop open in a grin. He pulsed over and over, watching Dean’s body flex from melted bliss to stiffening joy.   
  
“I, I wanna touch you,” Dean moaned, eyes shut in blissed desire.  
  
Castiel shifted, their eyes meeting as Dean grinned, gripping his cock.   
  
“Can you feel what I’m feeling?” Dean asked, licking his dry lips.  
  
“If you want,” Castiel whispered.  
  
“Yeah. Do it. And...keep doing that.”  
  
Castiel grinned, watching as Dean watched him. He pulsed his lust, feeling Dean’s thrust through him a second later.  
  
Dean laughed, seeing how much it affected him. Castiel grinned back wryly, pulsing again, his hand doing nothing but gripping him securely.  
  
The pair gasped, Castiel pulsing again, feeling Dean’s cock strain in his hand. So thick. So hot and firm. He wrapped his fingers a little tighter, feeling Dean do the same. He pulsed and gasped, neither moving, both gasping again, watching each other come undone rapidly.  
  
He watched Dean’s brow furrow as his eyes pleaded for more. He pulsed and received the burst of lust again.  
  
“Faster,” Dean barely whispered.  
  
Castiel, equally ramping up in his own arousal and watching Dean unravel, pulsed, pulsed, and pulsed.  
  
Dean’s breath came out in shallow pants, his free hand gripping the sheets. Castiel bent down, reverently kissing him, pulsing, feeling Dean’s body coil tighter.  
  
“Cas,” he moaned between taken kisses.  
  
He pulsed again and again, harder, stronger, until Dean arched into his grip, coming with a loud groan as Castiel stroked for the first time, gasping, and arching back as he too came with an echoed groan.  
  
Castiel flopped back onto the bed with a dreamy grin.   
  
Dean lay next to him, his breaths slowing with one arm over his face.   
  
He was amazed that he and Dean could manage to find even these few moments of bliss in the midst of war. His smile faded as he turned to look at Dean. Dean, catching him, grinned wide.   
  
“That was new.”  
  
Castiel sat up, taking one last kiss that was given eagerly. “Did you like it?”  
  
Dean lifted his hands with a smirk. “I like anything that ends in an orgasm.”  
  
Castiel chuckled as he got out of bed. Dean stretched and got out of bed as well. He clapped his hands together as he rounded the bed, meeting him halfway with a quick kiss.  
  
“Alright. Let’s do this. Shower, teeth, and dress me, baby.”  
  
Castiel grinned as he touched Dean’s lips, then his forehead.  
  
“Mmm,” Dean grinned, smacking his lips together. “Fresh and clean.”  
  
Castiel snapped and they were both dressed.  
  
Dean shifted slightly, tugging his shirt into just the right place. “How about we fly down to breakfast and I’ll check those wings for ya.”  
  
Castiel smirked. He could not believe he ever doubted that Dean loved his wings. The man took any and every opportunity to get his hands into them. “As you wish, love.”  
  
He took Dean’s hand, pulling them to the next plane, stretching his wings gently. He watched as Dean quickly went to work putting Charlie’s salve on the tiny remainder of his injury.   
  
Dean closed the little jar, putting it into the small pouch he carried on his belt. “Breakfast?”  
  
“Yes,” Castiel grinned.  
  
Dean combed his fingers through both wings one last time as he leaned in and kissed him again. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you,” Castiel answered automatically and whole heartedly.  
  
They appeared abruptly in the dining room, John immediately stumbling backward a step, spilling a mug of hot cider on himself.  
  
“Son of bitch!” John hissed, steadying his sloshing mug. “The next thing that flies into me is getting slapped!”  
  
Dean bit back a laugh as Castiel eyed the man.  
  
John, now steadily holding his mug, met Castiel’s eyes. “Morning.”  
  
“Morning,” Castiel bit back, manners not allowing him to be out-right insulting. He did consider seventeen different and unpleasant places to send the man.  
  
Dean was already headed to the buffet to load his plate. Sam and Gabriel, sitting at the table and almost done eating, were watching him and John with bated anticipation.  
  
“Sorry,” John mumbled, stepping out of Castiel’s way.  
  
If it were any other man, Castiel would be ashamed of his own behavior. But John Winchester had made his love feel shame and disgrace. The fool could consider himself lucky to be able to stand at all. He tamped down the urge to shove John far away. Like, out to sea.  
  
He ignored the man, moving to the buffet to fill his plate. He could not remember the last time he ate. Plate loaded, he sat down with Dean, who gave him a cheeky grin.  
  
Gabriel leaned over. “What’s going on with you and John?”  
  
Castiel’s jaw tightened. “He is an ass.”  
  
“Cas!” Dean spluttered. Sam looked sheepish as Gabriel frowned.  
  
“What did I miss?” Gabriel asked in a whisper.  
  
“Dad said some rude shit about Dean and Cas,” Sam explained.  
  
Gabriel sat back, giving the man a considering look. From the far end of the table, John sipped his cider quietly.  
  
“What kind of shit?” Gabriel asked, a tenor of warning in the question.  
  
“Forget it,” Dean interrupted, inhaling his food like he might not see any form of nutrition for the next few days.  
  
Obviously changing the subject, Dean leaned closer to Sam. “How did things go with Maddison?”

Sam blushed slightly. “Fine. I got her home.”

Dean smirked. “And then what? Come on.” He leaned closer, whispering, “What’s it like to have sex with a werewolf?”

Sam stared back at his brother with irritation. “I wouldn’t know. I helped her get home. To her parents house, I might add. And then I came home. With Gabriel.”

Dean stared at Sam in confusion. “I thought you were really into her.”

Sam took a drink, scooting closer to the table, lowering his voice. “She’s a nice girl. Very pretty. But Dean, she was pretty banged up.”

“So...no tea? No...tucking her into bed?”

Sam scoffed. “You read too many romance novels. No, Dean. I came home.”

“And Gabriel brought you home?”

“Well, I didn’t walk!” Sam glanced back at Gabriel, looking forward again quickly as he finished his omelette.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother but did not press him further. Castiel had been watching Gabriel during the brothers conversation, noting how Sam had glanced nervously back at him and was trying to keep the conversation away from Gabriel. It made him wonder. Sprites were much more direct, typically, than humans seemed to be. Gabriel, for his part, acted like he did not hear the entire conversation. He did, however, give Sam a grin when he finally sat back in his seat again.

After finishing their breakfasts hastily, they filed down the hall into one of the large meeting rooms to discuss strategy. The usual sheriffs were there, along with Billie, Charlie, Missouri, Sam, Jo, Bobby, and Ellen.  
  
“Where is Samuel?” Dean asked. “Not that I miss him, but I can’t believe he isn’t here to shove his nose in.”  
  
“I took him home,” Gabriel answered off-handed.  
  
“Why?” Sam asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”  
  
“Cassie wanted him gone. So, he’s gone.” Gabriel shrugged as if it were nothing.   
  
Dean and Sam exchanged an impressed look.  
  
“Did he go willingly?” Sam asked, truly surprised his grandfather was gone.  
  
Gabriel looked at Sam as if he just realized he was asking questions in the first place. “I didn’t ask him. He was no longer needed (or apparently wanted) here, so I told him he was going back home, and I sent him.”  
  
Sam’s gaping mouth and wide eyes summed up Dean’s response as well.  
  
“You want me to go get him?” Gabriel asked, smirking.  
  
“No!” Sam laughed, Dean shaking his head no with a mirthful smirk. Sam and Dean sat back exchanging a quick glance and a quiet laugh.  
  
Gabriel moved his attention back to the room at large and took the lead with an ease that had Dean glancing at his father several times. Rather than the tight look he had endured the last meeting with, John sat open and listening.  
  
“Our number one problem is the wards,” Gabriel announced. “We are cut off from all our legions, other than the three I brought with us and left in Freeland.”  
  
“We’re lucky we had them,” Sam added, exchanging a look with their dad. “Those Leviathan were kicking our asses until you showed up with them.”  
  
Gabriel gave him a wink. “Michael might be born from the angel of war, but I come from the greatest trickster that ever lived. Always have a plan C, Sammy. As in, no one sees it coming.”  
  
Sam grinned, his eyes dropping to his hands as his cheeks pinked. “It was a brilliant move.”  
  
Gabriel waited until Sam looked up at him again before moving on. “I am taking Billie to Haven. While we repair the wards, Castiel, you need to spot check everywhere in Freeland and Lawrence. Michael won’t stay quiet for long.”  
  
Castiel nodded dutifully.  
  
“The battle in New Harmony accomplished several things,” Gabriel went on with authority. “Alastair was injured.”  
  
“I thought he was killed!” Dean blurted.  
  
Gabriel shook his head. “No Yahtzee there. He’s near impossible to kill.”  
  
“I still have the Colt,” Sam offered. “It killed Azazel with one shot.”  
  
Gabriel leaned back, studying Sam. “That’s riiiight.” His eyes danced in thought. “I’ll come back to you on that. Besides Alastair being weak, we won New Harmony, killed a boat load of Leviathan and demons. Castiel wiped out all the Hellhounds, we gained Rowena’s coven, I gained Charlie.” He stopped briefly enough to share a quick grin with her. “I got out of Michael’s dungeon, and Dean was rescued.”  
  
“It was a good day,” Bobby grinned with a curt nod. “Besides Dean dying.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged nonchalantly, following it quickly with an eye roll.  
  
Bobby smirked at him before his eyes were back on Gabriel.  
  
“Yes, it was,” Gabriel smiled. “Unfortunately, we also pissed off Michael and Needham is currently wide open since Crowley has been demoted.”  
  
“I can handle Needham,” John offered.  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Take Castiel, wipe the demons out of that town and the woods surrounding it. Install a new sheriff and we’ll meet here again.”  
  
John nodded.  
  
Gabriel ran an encouraging look along the table. “When we control the wards and Needham, Lawrence is safe. Then we focus on Freeland. Then, the humans in Purgatory.”  
  
“And then Haven,” John added, meeting Gabriel’s eyes steadily.   
  
“And then Haven,” Gabriel admitted gravely.  
  
The table was pounded three times, marking the meeting closed in Lawrence tradition.  
  
Gabriel and Cas stepped to the side, not speaking, but obviously carrying on a conversation.  
  
“Gabe’s worried about Cas,” Charlie piped in quietly, making Dean jerk to the side slightly, not realizing she was just behind his elbow.  
  
“Worried about what?”  
  
Charlie shrugged. “I can feel it through our bond. And he needs help with his wings.”  
  
Dean turned, staring down at the red-head. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Gabe’s wings were hurt when he tried to fight Michael at New Harmony. And I would offer to help but that’s ‘too intimate’ to Jo and she got pissed. Again. So, we agreed it shouldn’t be me.”  
  
Dean watched the smaller sprite. He did not appear to be having any problems, but when their wings were away, pain hardly distracted them. “Maybe Billie could do it.”  
  
“Maybe. He’s acting all protective and shy about it. It’s kind of adorable.” She glanced across the room where Jo stood with Ellen and Bobby. “Don’t tell Jo I said that.”  
  
Dean took another step to the side, pulling Charlie with him. “Is this bond thing gonna be a problem for you and Jo? I mean...I would kill anyone who even thought about touching Cas’ wings.”  
  
Charlie grinned. “Our bond is different. It’s like...” she studied Gabriel across the room with a warm look on her face, “like he’s a brother that I really love.” Her eyes met Dean’s. “Zero romance. Just...he saved my life. I was dying. And I’m just a witch. He did not have to save me. It would have been completely reasonable to have let me slip away.”  
  
“Charlie!” Dean frowned.  
  
“I just mean...he stepped into death for me. And,” she shrugged with an easy grin, “here I am!”  
  
Dean hugged her, feeling an echo of the cold halls of the veil. “Charlie...whatever happens in this war...I hope I can live somewhere near you.”  
  
She hugged him back tightly. “Me too. I would like that.”   
  
They stood apart, watching as John gave the sheriffs orders to return to their camped troops and send runners to update the other sheriffs.  
  
“You gonna stay here? Or will you go to Haven?” She asked curiously.  
  
“I got no friggin’ clue,” Dean sighed. “Haven, I guess.”  
  
She nodded slowly. “I can’t live there. No witches.”  
  
Dean smirked. “If Gabriel says so, I’m sure you’ll be allowed.”  
  
She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose. Not sure I could talk Jo into that. Not sure I WANT to talk her into that.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean kept any other opinions to himself. Haven had been a nightmare. It had been weird. And unfriendly. And uncomfortable.  
  
“Awesome library though,” she grinned.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, until then, you don’t serve any districts here in Lawrence, so...you could always stick with me and Sam.”  
  
She elbowed him with a wide grin. “You big softie.”  
  
“You’re good, Charlie. Damn good. And if I gotta walk into battle against monsters, I’d rather you were with me.”  
  
She nodded, more honored this time. “Likewise.”  
  
  
  
*****************************************  
  
  
  
Castiel flexed his wings, knowing how menacing he appeared to the demons in Needham. Their terror was evidenced by how they attempted to leave their vessels. Castiel could hold as many as four demons into their vessels while humans exorcised them. They worked their way down the main street as Dean and Charlie’s group worked elsewhere in town, exorcising, and using the demon-killing knife. John and Sam were tackling Crowley’s former residence.  
  
Willing demons, in otherwise dead vessels, were rounded up and put aboard the ship. They were stabbed with Palo Alto branches (which trapped the demon to its vessel and also rendered them motionless) and placed aboard the ship, destined to sail around Freeland and disembark in Purgatory.   
  
He and Dean were both surprised at how many were willing do this. Many of the demons who had made Needham their permanent residence were much more like Crowley in that they did not support Alastair and Azazel’s movement for taking over humankind. While Crowley had been guilty of making deals for souls to use at his bidding, he had no part in the general uprising of Purgatory’s demons.   
  
Castiel took great pleasure in gripping one particular demon tightly. The skinny man that stunk of manure and piss had stammered and clawed uselessly at him when Castiel marched into the dark barn and grabbed him by his throat, lifting him off his feet.  
  
Delving into the vessel’s mind, Castiel grinned realizing the man was alive and therefore, the demon had to die.  
  
“I’ll go on the ship!” The demon croaked, feet kicking.  
  
“You will not.” Castiel grinned slowly, his eyes flaring to light as the demon kicked more wildly. “You took a man’s body without his permission. For that, you will be destroyed.”  
  
“Nnnnoo!” The demon writhed, trying to smoke out but trapped by Castiel’s grace.  
  
“And,” Castiel grinned, nose to nose with the wretch, “you should have been more caring to the animals in your charge.”  
  
The man’s legs stopped swinging as his wild eyes looked confused.  
  
“You never know when one urine-drenched cat will return as a full blown nephilim.”  
  
“Huh?” The demon whimpered before his eyes and mouth shot wide with light, the demon within the man shredded by Castiel’s grace until it was gone.  
  
The man now clutched in his tight grasp wrapped his hands fearfully around Castiel’s wrist.   
  
He sat him on his feet, healing and cleaning him. Blinking and sputtering, the man stared up at him. “You were the cat?!”  
  
“I was,” Castiel affirmed.  
  
“Thank you! Thank you!” The man bowed, stepping back with relief and a mixture of fear and elation.  
  
“You are welcome.” Castiel left the barn, hoping he never had to pass through its stinking door again.  
  
“Cas!”  
  
Castiel turned in the street, seeing Sam run toward him. “We have seven trapped in the bank. And Crowley’s old place is empty now.”  
  
Castiel joined Sam’s long strides towards the town’s bank. “You’re bleeding,” he stated, smelling, and then seeing the unmistakable bloom of red along Sam’s side.  
  
“Yeah. One of the demons stabbed me with a freakin’ fork.”  
  
Castiel grimaced, catching Sam’s wrist as they walked, healing him.  
  
“Thanks, Cas,” Sam grinned.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
  
  
It took three days to clear Needham and the surrounding woods.  
  
With the humans left to sort out their town under John’s leadership and a soon-to-be appointed new sheriff, Castiel flew the rest of them back to Lebanon.  
  
Their rest was hardly more than six hours before Castiel began flying from town to town to assess for demon activity or any signs of Michael. He, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Jo had been through all six towns in the Northwest region, including Needham. They had good reports in all four towns in the South region and found all seven towns in the Highlands region to be clear of any monster, demon, or nephilim activity. They circled back to Raton, joining Cesar and his husband Jesse for a fantastic lunch of enchiladas with red and green chili that had Castiel investigating every molecule in hopes of reproducing it. Castiel enjoyed the ruggedness of the Highland towns the most. The people were brave and confident, unlike in the south, where they were more suspicious and less moved to believe in war that had not touched them so far. The towns nearest Needham in the Northwest region were on high alert and tended to panic just at the sight of them appearing in town suddenly.  
  
Sitting on the large patio, watching over the pastures of horses Cesar and Jesse raised, the group relaxed after the large meal of enchiladas, sopapillas, and posole.  
  
Cesar turned his mug of beer slowly, looking at Dean. “How’s John?”  
  
Dean pursed his lips. “Better.”  
  
“Last time I saw him, you two weren’t speaking.”  
  
Dean nodded, staring into his beer. “He apologized for the stupid shit he said.”  
  
Castiel glanced between the two.  
  
“He said that he was acting like a dick and...said he’ll do better,” Dean shrugged.  
  
Cesar nodded slowly. “I used to live in Hibbing. Hunted with John a time or two. He’s a good hunter when he’s not being a dick.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh. “Sounds about right.”  
  
“Glad he turned things around,” Jesse added. “After how I heard he treated you on the road, I wasn’t sure I’d be re-electing a sheriff like that.”  
  
Dean looked at Jesse, not sure how to answer that.  
  
“All that was over the sprites, right?” Jesse asked.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Cesar nodded. “John insisted the sprites were allies, not friends. And temporary allies at that.” He met Castiel’s eye, raising his beer mug in cheers, “Friends AND allies, is my hope.”  
  
Castiel grinned, assuring the man. “Lawrence is...amazing. Full of many kinds of people. And just like Haven has many kinds of nephilim, some are more inclusive than others. It’s a stigma I intend to change.”  
  
Cesar gave an impressed smirk.  
  
“Your horse farm is beautiful,” Castiel admitted. “There is no place in Haven quite like this.”  
  
Dean sighed, his eyes peering over the scrub grass of the pastures. “There should be. This is where Impala is from.”  
  
Castiel grinned, adoring Dean for who he was. “I should have known.”  
  
“Are you runnin’ for sheriff?” Cesar asked Dean.  
  
“Me?” Dean laughed. “No. No, not my scene.”  
  
“That’s too bad, Dean.” Jesse gave him an understanding look. He turned to Sam. “How about you?”  
  
Sam glanced between the husbands before his eyes landed on Dean, then skirted out to the pasture. “Nah. I think when this is all said and done, I’ll find somewhere quiet and settle down.”  
  
Jesse’s grin crept deeper. “Got someone in mind to settle down with?”  
  
Sam shrugged, blushing as he grinned. “No.”  
  
“What?!” Cesar and Jesse teased.  
  
“Handsome guy like you! I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up yet!” Cesar teased, nudging his beer mug against Sam’s elbow.  
  
Sam shook his head, blushing harder. “Been kinda busy lately.”  
  
“Didn’t stop Dean!” Jesse laughed, making Dean grin wide as his eyes met Castiel’s, making him grin fondly as well.  
  
“Sammy found himself a hot little chick in Freeland,” Dean bragged.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “She was a nice girl. Pretty! But...no. I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to think about liking someone when your whole life is sorta up in the air.”  
  
The men all chuckled and nodded, but Castiel did not miss the tiny look of worry that edged onto Dean’s mouth before he took a drink of beer.  
  
“Did you know Castiel can talk to your horses?” Charlie said, knowing this would impress the men.  
  
“Really?” Cesar asked, he and his husband studying him more closely.  
  
Castiel explained his ability the best he could, noticing how Sam stared out into the pastures quietly, Charlie studying him surreptitiously as she sipped her beer.  
  
The respite had been much needed for all of them. After a long day of endless talking to town’s folk, it was reassuring to sit in good company and share such an exotic meal.  
  
“We should go,” Dean sighed. “We have all thirteen towns in The Flats to check on before we get to even think about heading back to the bunker.”  
  
“We do,” Castiel agreed. The Flats were the towns along the prairie flatlands of eastern Lawrence where Lebanon and Sioux Falls were.  
  
“It was good to sit for a minute,” Dean grinned, standing and hugging Cesar, then Jesse.  
  
“Great to have you,” Cesar grinned, Jesse mirroring it as he hugged Sam and shook hands with all the others. “Next time, stay the night and we’ll talk to the horses.”  
  
Castiel grinned. “I would enjoy that very much.”  
  
As they stood up to leave, Sam stepped closer to Castiel and Charlie. “You guys heard or felt anything from Gabriel?”  
  
“No,” Castiel admitted.  
  
Charlie put her palm over her heart as she focused her eyes downward. “He’s still alive. And he’s very far away.” Her face tilted toward both men with an apologetic grin. “Sorry. That’s all I got.”  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
  
  
Dean groaned as they flew to the ninth town since lunch in Raton. “Dude, I’m friggin’ exhausted.”  
  
Charlie grinned with a little hum as Sam yawned. Jo ran an encouraging hand up and down Charlie’s back, stifling a yawn of her own.  
  
Dean turned to pointlessly gripe at Cas when he noticed him standing stiffly to the side of the group, a feeling of high alert coiling in his chest through their bond.  
  
“This town has a fountain too!” Charlie pointed at the town’s square. “All these towns are so nice!”  
  
“Anything is nicer than Stockville,” Jo smirked.  
  
“Guys,” Sam whispered, glancing around as Cas drew his sword and Dean pulled his gun out, eyes skirting the empty road they were on.  
  
A scream broke out in the distance, followed by several more. They ran the opposite direction of the fountain, hesitating at the next crossroad when a window in an apartment above a shop slid open.  
  
“Leviathan! At the mill!” A man shouted, pointing down the road to their right. They ran, unsure what to expect as more shrieks met their ears.  
  
Charming Acres was known for its sawmill and as one of the most courteous towns Dean had ever been in. He was not surprised to note people were tucked away in their houses, sigiled and well adorned with devil’s traps. The sheriff, Chip Harrington, was an older man that was a rule follower and ran a pleasant but strict town. They never had disputes to settle in Lebanon from this picturesque place.  
  
They ran, stopping at the edge of the block, as three men marched a fourth to the street, showing him to a woman who stood there waiting.   
  
“I need to go get help,” Castiel whispered.  
  
“Don’t take too long,” Dean warned. “These bastards are hard to kill.”  
  
Castiel gave the group a nervous look. “You should come back with me.”  
  
“Go!” Jo encouraged. “We can at least help while we’re here.”  
  
Ahead of them, the woman’s mouth opened until the jaws spread, her entire face opening wide and biting the man’s head clean off.  
  
“Hurry,” Dean insisted, Cas nodding with a vanish.  
  
The headless body crumpled to the ground as the woman split his shirt wide open to take another huge bite of him.  
  
“They’re in the shop!” Charlie whispered.  
  
Dean pointed to a house up ahead they could skirt around and catch the group from behind, when Cas reappeared next to him.  
  
“Dean! We need to go!” Castiel shouted, gripping his arm.  
  
“What? Why?” Dean snapped, annoyed that Cas had given them away, two of the leviathan looking up the road, spotting them.  
  
“The bunker is under attack!”  
  
Dean’s heart froze.  
  
“What?” Sam gasped.  
  
Cas snapped, all five of them flying to land in the courtyard.  
  
Dean stared around in shock. Smoke billowed from the windows of the second floor of the bunker. The bell tolled endlessly. The town around them seemed to be a battlefield of people fighting werewolves and demons. Fire burned in sickening orange-red glows here and there in all directions. A loud burst from the side of the building brought their attention to three demons flying backwards, hitting the cobblestone courtyard hard.  
  
Sam ran forward, stabbing two of them with the demon-killing knife. Missouri rounded the corner of the bunker, yelling an exorcism spell, making the third demon writhe until the smoke coughed from him and dove down into the ground, dying.  
  
“Sam!” Missouri yelled, tripping toward him in her long dress. “Demons attacked the bunker!”  
  
“Where’s Adam and Kate?” Sam yelled, Charlie and Jo fighting off two attacking demons.  
  
“I don’t know! I was in my house reading when I heard the bell toll.”  
  
Sam and Dean barely exchanged a look before they both ran as fast as they could to the bunker’s main entrance. Dean ran through the foyer, stabbing a man from behind that was in a stand-off with Donna in the hallway.  
  
“Dean!” Donna yelled. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”  
  
“Adam?” Dean gasped.  
  
“Down below with Kate and the other staff.”  
  
Dean marveled at the woman’s bravery, standing alone against any threat. He coughed from the smoke that was quickly choking the air. “We gotta -”  
  
“Get them out!” Donna finished, running for the parlor that had the secret door to the underground bunker where people could hide. “I’ve been fightin’ off demons tryin’ ta get them outta here!”  
  
Dean followed her into the parlor, pushing the brick in the fireplace that held the hidden lever. A narrow door that looked like just another trimmed panel along the wall swung open with a click.  
  
Donna ran down the steps yelling about the fire. Dean tipped his head back, hearing and smelling the damage the fire was unleashing on the second floor. “CAAAAAS!”  
  
He turned in a circle. He knew Cas could hear him. “CAAAS!”  
  
Donna came back up the steps with Kate and Adam followed by other household staff and their children. Dean held a hand out, stopping them where they were. If Cas could put the fire out, they were safer staying hidden below. Donna caught on quickly, barring any of them from breaching the hidden stairwell.  
  
A flutter of wings alerted Dean to Cas’ arrival, making him jump less than usual when the sprite appeared in the parlor suddenly, bloody sword in hand, dirt and blood covering his chest, sleeves, neck, and face. “Dean?”  
  
“Can you put the fire out?” Dean yelled.  
  
“Michael isn’t here,” Cas said tightly, lifting his hands and chin, the sounds of fire disappearing.  
  
“Is that bad?” Dean huffed.  
  
Cas turned to him; his eyes full of worry. “If he isn’t here, then where is he?”  
  
“Oh,” Dean muttered, his mind filling with worry. “Good point.”  
  
“Dean!” Adam called, slipping past his mother and Donna to pull on Dean’s sleeve.   
  
Dean took Adam by the hand but did not answer him. “Is the fire out, Cas?”  
  
Cas stared up again, eyes narrowing. “Yes. In the bunker, at least.”  
  
“Dean!” Adam yelled, tugging insistently.  
  
“Where do you think Michael would be?” Dean asked.  
  
Cas threw his arms wide. “Anywhere! Leviathan are attacking Charming Acres at the same time demons attack Lebanon? He could be dropping off armies all over Lawrence!”  
  
“Shit,” Dean swore.  
  
“Dean!” Adam yelled, socking him in the gut with his little fist.  
  
“What?!” Dean yelled, frustrated and overwhelmed already as he instantly regretted yelling at his little brother. His little sword carrying brother! “Where did you get a sword?”  
  
“The barn! Bobby and some of the others went to save the barn! Werewolves were attacking!”  
  
A shock of cold hit Dean.  
  
Impala.  
  
“We gotta help them!” Adam yelled, heading toward the door at a run.  
  
Cas snagged his wrist, stopping him. “You wait here, Adam.”  
  
“It’s MY horse out there too!” Adam yelled, lifting his sword in a show of bravery.  
  
Cas threw Dean a worried look.  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” Dean choked out, gripping his gun tighter to stop the shaking of his hands.  
  
“Sorry, Adam,” Cas said quietly, touching his forehead with two fingers, his tiny frame disappearing.  
  
“Where did he go?!” Kate yelled from behind Donna.  
  
“Downstairs,” Castiel said gravely.  
  
“Keep them here,” Dean said to Donna, leaving the people under her care as he ran a step toward Cas, the pair of them disappearing from the parlor and appearing in front of the barn.  
  
Dean stopped, his hopes dashing as he stared at the burning barn.  
  
Castiel went to work quickly diffusing the engulfing flames.  
  
“No!” Dean whispered; feet frozen on the cobblestone.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Dean turned, still stunned as he saw Bobby coming toward him at a run, gun in hand.  
  
“Bobby!”  
  
“I got the horses out!” Bobby said, eyes wide and searching in every direction. “I got no idea where they all went. There was a pack of -” He raised his gun, taking aim and shooting as a huge, wiry wolf dropped dead thirty feet behind Dean’s shoulder. “Wolves! Werewolves attacked the barn and the well! I got a lot of them, but there’s more around here!”  
  
“You saw Impala?” Dean asked, unable to reconcile his fear with the empty surroundings.  
  
“She ran,” Bobby panted. “Along with the others. What happened after that, I couldn’t tell ya. I was too busy wolf hunting.”  
  
Dean nodded. That would have to do. She was out there somewhere. She had to be.  
  
“I have to go,” Castiel said darkly. “Something is happening. Either Michael is distracting us from something else, or he is dropping off armies all over the place.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. He watched as Cas took several strides to him, kissed him, and flew.  
  
He blinked away the warmth of his other half, focusing on Bobby. “What should we do?”  
  
“Come on. There’s at least three more werewolves around here somewhere.”  
  
Dean switched his bullets to silver ones as the pair walked along the barn, wisps of smoke drifting from its blackened roof.  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
Dean wiped his silver dagger off on the sparsely furred, rough coat of the werewolf, watching as it shifted into a dead, skinny man with wild brown hair and full beard.  
  
A gunshot rung out, making his whole body flinch, crouch, and look to where Bobby had just shot another one. The huge beast lurched, then dropped along the silhouette of the back pasture as dusk gave off just enough light to make him blink over and over to adjust.  
  
“How many damn wolves did they bring?” Bobby grumbled. “I’m low on silver.”  
  
“Well, I’m out of bullets,” Dean said, scanning the field again.  
  
Cas appeared, coat stained, hair wild, and wings at full height and breadth, making Dean lick his lips and roll his shoulders. Even amidst the melee around him, he had two seconds to appreciate how fucking hot his sprite was.  
  
“Dean, the demons have been eradicated here in Lebanon. Charming Acres is also under control. I need to go check the other towns.”  
  
“All of them?” Bobby asked, his gun slung low, looking exhausted.  
  
“Yes, all of them,” Cas said abruptly. “I’ll be back.”  
  
“You -” Dean snapped his jaw shut as Cas disappeared. He shared an exasperated look with Bobby.  
  
“Will somebody quit bangin’ that damn bell!” Bobby yelled.  
  
They circled around the bunker to the chaos of the courtyard where people were gathered to talk, find each other, and figure out what to do next.  
  
“Did anyone tell Kate and the others that they came out of the bunker?” Dean asked, flopping onto a hay bale by the chicken coop. “And where is Charlie?”  
  
“Got no clue,” Bobby groaned, sitting next to him.  
  
“Bobby!” Ellen came out of the kitchen door, heading straight to him. Bobby stood up, hugging her. “I was so worried about you! You took off after those wolves and Jo got hurt, and -”  
  
“Jo got hurt?” Dean and Bobby snapped, both following Ellen as she nodded, turning back toward the bunker, wiping a grimy hand through her bloodstained hair.  
  
“How bad?” Bobby asked, following her through the kitchen and a hall to the medic ward, which was overcrowded with wounded people in beds and on mats on the floor. Dr. Garrison and a hoard of witches were frantically moving from person to person to help.  
  
“She’ll live,” Ellen huffed, stepping over a mat where Missouri worked on stitching a nasty looking claw mark on Becky, one of Donna’s kitchen staff.  
  
Dean followed Bobby and Ellen until Ellen stopped at a mat near the window, where Jo sat against the wall with Charlie.  
  
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Jo assured Charlie, who was frantically digging through her little bag.  
  
“I had some marjoram root here somewhere!” Charlie said, frustrated.  
  
“Babe,” Jo put a steadying hand on her forearm. “I’m gonna be fine.”  
  
Charlie met her eyes, fighting tears. Jo shook her head slightly before looking up at her mom, Bobby, and Dean.  
  
“Got rid of those wolves,” Bobby muttered. “Sorry you got clawed by one, kiddo.”  
  
She shrugged one shoulder, not moving her opposite arm which was bandaged thickly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”  
  
As he and Ellen crouched down, Charlie stood up, moving over to Dean, hugging him. “I totally lost track of you!”  
  
“I’m good,” Dean said gruffly. “You?”  
  
“I’m fine,” she waved dismissively. “But when I got so upset about Jo, I think Gabe felt it. He’s...stressed. Something is wrong. He’s so upset. But he’s so far away that I can’t make out why!” She looked near tears and Dean had no clue what the hell to do with that, so he re-directed.  
  
“Cas went to check the other towns, but I think we’re in the clear so far.” He grimaced, shaking his shoulders slightly. “He’s makin’ me feel about half sick with all his flying here and there. He’s jumpin’ all over the damn place.”  
  
Charlie leaned closer to him. “This bond shit sucks sometimes.”  
  
Dean smirked. “Cas is alive. That much, I know.”  
  
“Gabe too. I just wish I knew what was wrong.”  
  
“Try to tell him we’re okay. Maybe he’s freaked out because you freaked out.”  
  
Charlie pursed her lips, one hand parking authoritatively on her hip. “I did not freak out.”  
  
“You did too,” Jo laughed weakly.  
  
Charlie melted immediately, squeezing next to Jo on the floor again. “I guess I did. A little.” She looked up at Dean. “I’ll try what you said.”  
  
Dean nodded. “I’m gonna try to find Sam. Jo, take it easy.”  
  
She nodded; her head then tipped over to rest on Charlie’s shoulder.  
  
Dean gave Bobby a pat on the shoulder and then headed back through the room. Not sure where exactly to look, he headed for the parlor with the secret door. The bunker was crowded with people who were there seeking shelter. When he got to the parlor, the secret door was open, and the room was full of kids, Donna, and other staff from the bunker.  
  
“See? There he is,” Kate grinned, putting Adam down, who immediately weaved through the little crowd to hug Dean.  
  
“Hey, little man,” Dean grinned. He picked Adam up so he could hug him right.  
  
“Did you find Impala? Or Wisconsin?”  
  
Dean let out a solemn sigh. “No. Me and Bobby were fighting off werewolves. But Bobby saw the horses run away from the barn. Hopefully, we can go find them.”  
  
Adam hugged him, his head propping solidly against Dean’s. “We gotta find them.”  
  
“Yeah. Challenger was already a handful. He’ll have gone full native on us!”  
  
“Where’s Thursday? Maybe he can find them.”  
  
Dean shifted him slightly. “He’s checking on the other towns.”  
  
“Dean!” Kate made her way through the room, hugging him. “I was so worried about you.” Her hands shook as she looked around at all the children. “It seems all I do is worry anymore.”  
  
“Where’d all these kids come from?”  
  
Adam turned, whispering in his ear. “Some of them’s parents got killed. Some of them’s parents were out fighting and haven’t come back yet. And some are just hiding here.”  
  
Dean nodded, sharing a worried look with Kate. He could see that she was starting to really struggle with all this. “Ya know, I actually came here to get you.”  
  
“Me?” Kate asked, staring up at him in confusion.  
  
“Yeah.” He nodded toward the hall. “Dr. Garrison is drowning down the hall. I thought -”  
  
Her face lit up. “I could help!”  
  
Dean grinned. “That would be great. They really need it.”  
  
She glanced at Adam.  
  
“I got Adam,” he reassured.  
  
She hugged him and quickly left the room, heading down the hall toward the medic suite.  
  
Donna edged through the room toward him. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey, Jo got hurt. Looks like a werewolf clawed her forearm pretty good.”  
  
“She gonna be okay?” Donna frowned.  
  
“Yeah. Kate looked ready to snap. I sent her to work with doc Garrison.”  
  
She nodded. “I forgot she used to be a medic. That’s how she met your Dad, right?”  
  
Adam and Dean both nodded. They walked further down the hall as they heard raised voices in the foyer.  
  
Henriksen approached them, looking haggard from the battle. “Where’s John?”  
  
“Still in Needham,” Dean answered. “I’m just waiting to hear back from Cas. He’s checking on the other towns. Charming Acres is clean again.”  
  
Henriksen nodded.   
  
“You seen Sam? I lost track of him when I went running out to the barn and then Bobby and I were killing werewolves.”  
  
“He was with me, but he went to check the upstairs here to see if there were any demons hiding.”  
  
Dean’s shoulders relaxed as Sam came down the wide set of steps looking exhausted but all in one piece.  
  
“What’s it look like out there?” Dean asked Henriksen.   
  
“A lot of homes were burned,” Henriksen said quietly. “We didn’t lose as many people as I thought we might, but we lost some good people. And they burned some of the crop fields.”  
  
Dean sighed. “They’re hurting us a little all over. Trying to scare people from fighting.”  
  
Henriksen huffed. “All they’re doing is pissing people off and giving them more reason to fight.”  
  
Dean nodded.  
  
“I’m heading out to find out more, and the staff are taking care of the children that were brought here.”  
  
Dean nodded, watching as Sam stopped to speak with Krissy and send her toward the parlor. “Thank you,” Dean said. He finally let his shoulders relax as Henriksen made his way outside.  
  
Sam turned toward him as a loud pop shot through the air, making all of them duck, crouch, and hide. Dean, gripping Adam tight to his chest, turned to move behind a pillar, then looked out at Sam.  
  
Gabriel had crashed to the huge landing on the stairs, another man rolling off of him to sprawl out on the floor, a clay pot cradled protectively to his chest.  
  
Sam approached the man, jumping back as soon as his head tipped up to meet his eyes. Sam skirted around him, desperately searching himself for a weapon as he put himself between Gabriel and the intruder.  
  
“Alastair!” Sam shouted. People screamed and scattered in all directions as Dean put Adam down, pressing him tightly into the corner to keep him hidden.  
  
Gabriel got to his feet, looking terrible. His wings arched in ashy menacing canopies, but Dean could see a huge gap in one of them. He was injured.  
  
“Cas!” Dean whispered loud. “CasCasCasCas!”  
  
The demon sneered, jutting his chin up proudly. He was also injured, stooped and drooling. “Niiice place you got here.”  
  
Sam squared his shoulders as Gabriel got fully to his feet.  
  
Dean didn’t know when he started running, but it didn’t matter. He was not quick enough to stop what unfolded in the next few seconds.  
  
Alastair uncorked the jug and splattered Sam with something wet. He raised an arm, making a disgusted face as some of it must have hit his mouth.  
  
“NOOO!” Gabriel screamed, swooping down to wrap Sam in his wings, both of them disappearing as Alastair had flung another spray of the liquid and snapped his fingers.  
  
Dean slid to a stunned halt as the pair disappeared. But he had seen a split second of Gabriel’s wings catch fire.  
  
Alastair laughed maniacally as a sword suddenly jutted through his chest. The joy on his face drained as he looked down at the angel blade protruding from his chest.  
  
Dean realized Cas stood behind him as he wrenched the sword out, shoving him down.  
  
Flames erupted into being as Gabriel and Sam reappeared, Sam trying to douse them with his jacket as Gabriel screamed.  
  
Castiel snapped his fingers, the fire disappearing as Gabriel flared his wings, turning in pain and panic.  
  
“Gabe!” Sam yelled, trying to help him.  
  
Charlie and Missouri came running to the foyer, Charlie alerted to Gabriel’s arrival and panicking herself at his state.  
  
Gabe dropped to his knees, heaving as he glared up at Alastair with a murderous expression as Castiel kept him captured in a grip.  
  
Sam turned, staring at the demon in horror.  
  
Blood and drool dripped from Alastair’s chuckling mouth.  
  
Sam pulled the gun from his waist, aiming it at laughing, drooling demon. “Let ‘im go, Cas.”  
  
Castiel shoved him aside, looking just as malicious as Gabriel, and Sam shot him, dropping him to crack and scream as orange light shot from his body and the second of the two demon leaders, Alastair, was dead.  
  
“Gabriel!” Castiel said, running toward him.  
  
Gabriel teetered on his knees, Sam and Cas steadying him as Dean held a hand out for Adam. Adam ran to him, clinging to his forearm.  
  
“That was bad!” Gabriel gasped. “That fucker really got me!”  
  
“I’ll heal you!” Cas assured him, searching his face as he pressed a hand to Gabriel’s chest. Light glowed from under his palm before they both fell into the other plane, disappearing.  
  
“Dammit!” Dean yelled. “I hate when they do that!”  
  
Sam paced, staring at the foot of the stairs while sliding the gun back into its holster. “I couldn’t put the flames out!” Sam shouted, running both hands back through his hair. “Why couldn’t I put the flames out?!”  
  
Missouri smelled the jug. She felt the liquid between two fingers and the pad of her thumb. “It’s oil. Some sacred oil. I smell Frankincense and myrrh.”  
  
Cas and Gabriel reappeared suddenly, Gabriel on his feet with one arm slung over Cas’ shoulder. Cas pulled him toward the nearest room, which happened to be a meeting room.  
  
They all filed in behind him, watching helplessly as Cas lowered him to the floor, Gabriel crying out in pain.  
  
“I’ll be back,” Cas stated, disappearing.  
  
They stared in shock as Gabriel moaned and suddenly disappeared again.  
  
“Gabriel!” Charlie yelled at the room at large. “I can’t help you if I can’t see you!”  
  
Dean held Adam tighter as the dim walls of the room washed into lavender. The sounds of the bunker suddenly quieted and he knew that he was on the other plane.  
  
“What just happened?” Adam said in a tiny voice, clutching Dean’s shirt tightly.  
  
Charlie and Sam ran to where Gabriel lay on the floor. His wings were out wide in both directions, it not mattering that a huge table normally took up the space they were in. Only a dim shade of it existed around him. There were bloody patches on his wings and his skin looked as pale as milk.  
  
Dean sat Adam down as he and Missouri crept closer. Sam and Charlie knelt on either side of him.  
  
“Gabriel!” Charlie cried, gently putting her hands on his chest. “What happened?”  
  
Gabriel’s mouth moved a little, but no sounds came out.  
  
“Oh, dear angel’s child,” Missouri said softly, a look of awe and sadness all over her wise face.  
  
Sam, holding Gabriel’s hand, looked up at the group with tears in his eyes. “He was just protecting me! I got in Alastair’s way!”  
  
Charlie frowned, seeming to be listening hard. “He wants me to tell you that he got Billie to where she needed to go, and all the wards are open to him and Cas. He had to find Michael and make it so he couldn’t fly. Something about wards, I don’t quite understand it all.”  
  
“Michael can’t fly?” Charlie asked, clarifying. “Only in Haven,” she answered with a nod. Gabriel must have been communicating to her.  
  
Missouri started pulling things out of her bag. All their heads jerked to look at Gabriel as his chest stopped moving and his eyes lost the spark of life inside them.  
  
“NO!” Charlie gasped.  
  
Stunned. Dean did the only thing he knew to do. “Cas! CAS!”  
  
Castiel appeared, washed in lavender, looking around the room with a confused look. Before Dean could even call to him again, Cas was back to normal color and seeing all of them.  
  
“Gabriel!” Castiel dove to the floor, gripping his friends head.  
  
Adam started crying as he stared at one of Gabriel’s wings. Following his look as he picked his brother up, tears sprang to his eyes. He felt himself dropping slowly into a kneel as he watched the tip of Gabriel’s wing, the furthest feathers that tipped out so gracefully began turning to ash. Like water soaking into a cloth, the ash crept along the furthest feathers.  
  
“Gabriel, no!” Castiel cried, a pulse shuddering through the room. Gabriel writhed in his hands, gasping as his eyes blinked full of agony again.  
  
Adam clung to Dean hard, burying his head in Dean’s neck.  
  
“What can I do?” Charlie cried.  
  
“Use your bond!” Castiel ordered, looking at her with glowing eyes.  
  
“I have been!” She cried back; her hands still planted on Gabriel’s narrow chest.  
  
Missouri started chanting as she ground something in a tiny bowl. Castiel held onto Gabriel’s head, fighting something none of them could see. He fought so hard that his face was red and his jaw was clenched.  
  
“Brother!” Castiel choked. Gabriel’s eyes went wide open but they were wild and unfocused. His wings began trying to flap and he screamed out in pain.  
  
Sam pressed the one near him into the floor, careful not to press where open wounds were. Dean kissed Adam’s head, peeling him off. “I gotta help Gabriel. Just...you don’t have to look, Adam.” He stopped the undulating wing near him, pressing it to the floor. Gabriel writhed and screamed again before relaxing into a volley of shallow panting.  
  
“He’s better,” Castiel announced, relaxing his grip on Gabriel’s head, moving to put his hands on his trunk around Charlie’s. Charlie’s eyes were rolled up completely and she seemed to be communicating with only Gabriel at this point. Missouri continued to chant, drawing on the floor with chalk, then on the soles of Gabriel’s boots.  
  
Dean gently restrained one wing while Sam held the other. They exchanged a worried look. Dean looked across the wing he was holding, seeing Adam crawl over to it, afraid of the ash, he carefully reached around it to hold the quaking feathers down. The ash had stopped creeping as soon as Gabriel drew a breath.  
  
Gabriel gasped again as Charlie’s eyes came back to normal. His hand jumped up to grip her forearm. She lifted her hands away from him, taking his hand and kissing it. “You’re going to be okay!”  
  
“Roll him over,” Castiel said. It was an absurd thought, but there was no questioning the firm look on Cas’ face. They all moved, turning Gabriel over until his wings lay spread wide again.  
  
Dean covered his nose and fought tears at the burns. He caught Sam doing the same.  
  
Gabriel gasped again, arching up, his face still riddled with pain. “IT HURTS!”  
  
Light glowed from under Castiel’s hands as he moved them over one wing, his grace pulsing again. Dean could feel the rush of grace flux almost out of control. Cas was exhausted. He was fighting so hard and draining everything in himself.  
  
“Cas,” Sam said urgently the second the light beneath his palms dimmed. “Cas! Is it working?”  
  
Castiel blinked, swaying on his knees as he looked at the wing Sam held.  
  
Dean swallowed bile. While the wing he and Adam held had at least four burns and a few wounded spots on the other side, the one Sam was holding was in much worse shape. Feathers clung to Sam’s sleeves and pants and he could see where sections of raw, open wing were beyond what he could even look at.  
  
“Cassie!” Gabriel cried.  
  
Castiel leaned down, meeting his friend’s eyes. “You will heal, brother. Steady.”  
  
Gabriel took several sharp breaths, bending his knees and gripping Charlie’s hand fiercely with one hand and Cas’ coat with the other.  
  
“I put wards on Michael,” Gabe gasped. “I fought him with all I had. That fucker is never getting out of Haven by flying.”  
  
“You did good,” Castiel assured him. “Now, I’m going to help you.” He touched Gabriel’s forehead and the man relaxed completely. “He’s asleep,” Castiel sighed, breathing heavy.  
  
“Cas, we should take him to Haven so other nephilim can help heal him,” Dean warned.  
  
“Yes!” Charlie added, watching both sprites with worry.  
  
“I have to heal this wing. At least partially.” Without another word, he went back to the wing, Sam moving over.  
  
As light glowed beneath his palms, Dean could feel heat and ripples of grace thrum through the wing under his hands. He pulled his hands off, Adam copying him as he looked at his own hands in wonder.  
  
“Did you feel Cas’ magic?” Dean asked him, sure the kid was shocked.  
  
Adam nodded his head, still holding his hands up like they were coated in something. The lavender world around them blinked and shuttered. Cas’ magic burst forth again, everyone shielding their eyes. Dean waved Adam back to him. Adam came, sitting in his lap with a long, black feather clutched in his hands. He trembled as Missouri and Sam sat back, watching. Charlie held Gabriel’s hand tight, but the sprite never moved, other than the steady rise and fall of his back.  
  
Sam grinned as he watched Cas work. Cas stopped suddenly, panting with exertion.   
  
“Cas,” Charlie, Sam, and Dean all warned, seeing him tremble.  
  
“You need to stop. He’s gonna make it,” Sam assured him.  
  
“No. Just a bit more to close this one wound.”  
  
Before anyone could stop him, Castiel’s hands were glowing. Dean held Adam tight as he felt Cas drain.  
  
Sam finally reached up to shake Cas’ shoulder, interrupting the sprite. Cas’ eyes were pale blue, and a burst of grace flooded the group, washing healing grace over all of them. It was strong enough to take away minor aches, but Dean knew he was losing control. “Cas!”  
  
Castiel’s eyes snapped to his.  
  
“Cas! Shut it down! Stop using your grace!”  
  
“I’m trying,” Cas said through gritted teeth, surging slightly before huffing into a relaxed slump. “I got it. It’s okay.”  
  
Dean felt an odd sort of swirl between their bond. He moved Adam to stand as he quickly got up, coming around Gabriel to take Cas in his arms.  
  
“Oh, Dean,” Cas frowned. “I think...”  
  
“I know,” Dean assured him, kissing his forehead, watching with a sad smile as Cas’ eyes fluttered shut.  
  
“He’s just sleeping, right?” Adam asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, holding him against his chest, distracted by the swirl and swoop and prickling feel of something through their bond. “Dammit, Cas.”  
  
He ignored the gasps in the room, reassuring Cas through their bond (though Cas was completely silent on his end) that he would be fine. He moved his arms, accommodating Cas as he shrunk and shrunk until all that remained was the black cat he had not seen for some time.  
  
“Not again!” Sam said softly.  
  
Dean shifted the cat on his chest, reassured by his steady breathing. He beat back the nag of fear that he might never see Cas in his natural form again. That he would be in love with a cat.  
  
“It’s Thursday,” Adam said softly, reaching around to pet Cas’ head gently.  
  
“Yeah. He goes full cat mode when he wipes his grace out.”  
  
Charlie glanced around the room. “How do we get out of this plane? Gabriel is out and Cas is...”  
  
They all stared around, the lavender world out of touch. People looked in the door, but as far as they could tell, all of them had vanished.  
  
Missouri sighed. “I guess we’ll wait here until one of them wakes up.”  
  
“Seriously?” Dean bitched.  
  
“Jo is gonna kill me,” Charlie sighed.  
  
Sam looked down at the wing by his knees. He gently coaxed a few feathers back into place, smoothing the little section down. “I really thought Gabe was gonna die.”  
  
“Me too,” Charlie murmured, curling up next to her sprite.   
  
“Hey,” Dean frowned. “Cas didn’t...” he swallowed thickly, terrified to ask, “I mean, Cas did that head thing and saved him, so did they...”  
  
“Bond?” Charlie frowned. “No. I would know. You would know.” Her frown deepened. “I think we would know,” she said less confidently.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “We would know.” Guess it’s mandatory nap time,” Dean smirked down at Adam. “One of them will wake up soon and we’ll be back to normal.”  
  
Adam nodded, petting Cas again. “He sure is a good cat.”  
  
“The best,” Dean grinned.  
  
  



	28. Woven Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is in desperate need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay fam! I will be posting 29 on Friday and 30 on Saturday.  
> We are nearing the end, my friends and I can not wait to finish this for all of us! <3  
> Lots of love to all of you!

Chapter 28: Woven Grace  
  
  
Dean and Missouri did not sleep in the plane. Adam and Charlie slept like logs. Sam dozed from time to time but mostly kept himself distracted fretting over Gabriel’s feathers. He delicately piled the fallen ones to the side and smoothed the patches of clumped feathers to lay flat.   
  
Missouri kept watching Sam with a note of worry on her smooth brow. He waited until Sam had dozed off again before saying anything.  
  
“Missouri, you look worried.”  
  
“Mmm,” she hummed melodically. “I do worry. Touching a sprite’s wings is...”  
  
“Intimate?” Dean smirked.  
  
Her dark brown eyes studied him. “Yes. Just looking upon them is to be counted among the few.”  
  
Dean ran his hand down Cas’ furry back. “A lot of people have seen their wings now. Now that they are helping us, we see their wings a lot.”  
  
“It does not make touching them any less majestic, I suspect,” Missouri countered.  
  
Dean tipped his head in affirmation. “And that’s a bad thing?”  
  
Missouri stopped to think before going on. “I have known Gabriel for a year now. He stopped me while I was in Stockville visiting the Purgatory witches. My communication with him after that was rare. And I do admit I had great difficulty convincing anyone here that problems in Purgatory were our problems as well.”  
  
“The farm?” Dean asked. Knowing the human farm was what Charlie had been initially worried about, then the demon armies that were organizing around them.  
  
“Farms,” Missouri said darkly. “Sprites, some of them, have a notion that with the correct breeding, they will become more like angels of old and God will come back for them. Now that I know Castiel better, I understand he, and many, do not share that insane theory.”  
  
Dean nodded slowly. “I, we, saw one of the farms. Michael goes there sometimes. Guess he’s studying the people.”  
  
“And do you really believe these mages, two of the seven, will turn on their own kind?”  
  
Dean studied Thursday’s black head. “Cas will. Gabe too.” He met her eyes steadily. “They will. Samandriel too. I’ve been to Haven. And even though Michael grabbed me, and none of the Sundays we met were on our side, there are a lot of nephilim there that are horrified at what Michael is doing.” He grinned ruefully. “They don’t take kindly to their people working with demons.”  
  
“But what about their lack of care for humans?” Missouri pressed.  
  
“I have a theory about that too,” Dean said quietly. “The humans that live in Haven are slowly and quietly dwindling, so are their own numbers. They didn’t notice because the humans slowly stopped coming to Sunken Ties seeking refuge. And they all go through Michael. Who knows how long that has been going on? So, I think it’s possible that every human there has been brainwashed by Michael already. They came willingly enough, but they remember nothing about Purgatory or wherever they came from. I think...I think Michael has been planning this war for a very long time.”  
  
“I think,” Missouri smiled, “I think I underestimated you, Dean Winchester. You might be strong and a good leader, like your father, but you have a heart and an open mind much bigger than any Winchester, or Campbell, I have ever met. Next to Sam and little Adam.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Well. It took kind of an in-your-face approach, but...I got the message.”  
  
Missouri nodded. “Some may never share your views. Many blame the sprites and want them gone as soon as Michael is dead. Some have had a change of heart but many here in Lawrence still see them as too dangerous to be amongst us.”  
  
Dean let the thought settle before just getting pissed. “What’s it gonna take for people to understand that it isn’t the way our bodies are made, but respect for life, that makes you who you are?!”  
  
“Oh, sweet boy,” Missouri shook her head. “People have been trying to figure this out for as long as time.”  
  
“Well...people are stupid then!”  
  
She chuckled sadly. “You may be right there.”  
  
“Peoples, all of them, come in all shades of good and bad, Dean. The best you can do is surround yourself with the good ones and protect others from the bad ones.”  
  
“Yeah? That why you work for my dad?”  
  
Missouri nodded slowly. “I gave up long ago convincing your stubborn father on who was good and who was evil. I stayed around for his children.”  
  
Dean’s heart stuttered. “You mean...you would have left?”  
  
“Long ago, child. But...he does have his moments. And he has seemed to change his ways of late.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “You might be right.”  
  
“I am always right, Dean Winchester.”  
  
Dean chuckled, hugging Cas to him a little tighter. “I suppose. Wish your curiosity spell wasn’t so friggin’ perfect.”  
  
She grinned, her eyes moving down a notch to watch the cat. “My curiosity spell wore off long ago. It certainly has not worked since Gabriel removed it.”  
  
“What? Then why does it still happen?”  
  
“You’ll have to ask Castiel. I suspect he uses it as a safe place. You must have shown him a kindness unlike any he ever had before to take him back to that state.”  
  
Dean frowned down at the cat. “He’s brave. Braver than anyone I’ve ever known!”  
  
“It’s not a question of bravery or weakness. It is a manifestation of something he clearly needs. To revert to another form is...well, it is touching, if nothing else.”  
  
Dean hugged his cat close. He kissed Cas’ head, looking away to where Sam lay. For someone he loved beyond any reason, there was still plenty about Cas that he did not understand. But they had time for that. Another day. A better day. If not here, they had the veil. If Cas needed this, then he would hold him through it.  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
Gabriel’s head turned. He had the abrupt misfortune of waking up and feeling every stab of pain from the holy oil. He winced, huffing in pain as his left wing felt like it weighed a ton and would not lift. Panting, he turned to the side. Sam Winchester, the tall one, was sleeping on his wing.  
  
“Get off!” He gasped. His hand scrambled, bumping into a head of hair. He looked down as Charlie lifted her head, waking up. “Get him off!” Gabe gasped.  
  
“Dude!” Dean snapped, Sam jolting upright with a feather stuck to his cheek.  
  
Gabriel exhaled in relief.  
  
“Oh! Did I hurt you?” Sam gasped, backing up, pulling the feather off with a guilty wince. “I’m so sorry!”  
  
Gabriel groaned, moving both wings a fraction as Adam sat up and Missouri stood. Dean hefted Cas onto his shoulder easily.  
  
Gabriel glanced around in confusion. “The, the bunker. I came back and...”  
  
“You grabbed me,” Sam filled in nervously. “You sent me to get help, so I...”  
  
“You had a damn party on my wings.” Gabriel rocked to the side, still trying to move his wings.  
  
“You almost-” Charlie began.  
  
“Died,” Gabriel supplied. “Yeah. Kinda wondering if it was wise to keep me here.” He panted again.  
  
“Gabriel,” Charlie fretted. “What can I do?”  
  
“Where’s Cas?”  
  
“Right here,” Dean answered, lifting the shoulder his sleeping cat was on.   
  
“What?! Now?! You have GOT to be shittin’ me.”  
  
“You want some tea or...a blanket?” Dean offered, wincing slightly.  
  
“Fuck,” Gabe choked. “I need...uh...help. More than a fuckin’ blanket, Winchester!”  
  
Missouri frowned. “Mage of Monday, let me out of here so I can get things to attend your wounds.”  
  
“Wha-” Gabriel whimpered, blinking around. “Oh shit. Were you all...stuck in here?”   
  
“Yes,” Charlie grinned weakly. “Now let us out so we can go help you.”  
  
“Mmmmuuuuuuu.” Gabriel snapped his fingers, letting them out.  
  
Missouri and Charlie left quickly to get supplies.   
  
With a slew of groans and pants, Gabriel pushed up onto his hands until he was sitting back on his heels. Red, raw patches of angry skin showed on several spots on his wings.  
  
“Gabriel, what can I do?” Sam asked, kneeling in front of him. “This is my fault! You jumped in to try to help me!”  
  
Gabriel looked up at him, wincing. “Wasn’t your fault kid. I couldn’t shake that fucking demon. He threw holy oil on me and lit me on fire.”  
  
“I killed him,” Sam assured.  
  
“You did?” Gabriel smiled for the first time. It was brief and still full of pain, but relief filled him. “Thank you.”  
  
“Yeah! You’re welcome!” Sam huffed, his own smile wobbling with worry for him. “Thanks for saving me.”  
  
“Anytime,” Gabe tried to grin again, but his face wilted into a painful scowl.   
  
“Gabriel,” Dean said, coming around his wing so the sprite could look at him. “Can you come into the regular plane? Maybe your wings won’t hurt so bad?”  
  
Gabe teetered on his arms. “I can’t.” Sweat broke out on his forehead. “I can send you.”  
  
“No,” Dean assured him. “Charlie and Missouri will be back soon. They can help. Just...hang in there.”  
  
Gabe nodded stiffly, his eyes dropping to Castiel. “What’s his deal?”  
  
“He drained his grace healing you,” Sam said quietly. “He’ll be fine though.”  
  
Gabe slid back down to his elbows and then to his belly, sighing on the floor. “I fought Michael.”  
  
Sam grinned. “You told us. You said you stopped him from being able to fly here.”  
  
“Yeah. He’s so, so pissed. I gotta go back for the rest of my legion.”  
  
“You aren’t going anywhere just yet,” Dean said. “Just...you gotta heal.”  
  
Gabe whined. “I can’t fly. Ooooohhh...I can’t do shit but lay here.”  
  
“Just take it easy,” Sam soothed, just shy of petting his wing. “They’ll be back soon. Just rest.”  
  
Gabriel groaned quietly, tucking his head down by one of his arms.  
  
  
By the time Charlie and Missouri returned, Gabriel was near to tears and so was Sam. Gabriel brought them into the plane and the two witches quickly went to work dipping thin rags into a bucket of something white, draping them over the burns.   
  
Dean walked over to the far side of the room, shaking Cas gently awake. He felt Cas jolt in surprise at his state and then sag in exhaustion.  
  
“Cas. You need to pull yourself together. Missouri said you are strong enough now to change back on your own.” The cat stared at him in confusion. “Come on, man. Your brother really needs you right now.”  
  
Cas looked across the room, his ears pinning back.  
  
“Come on, Cas.” He sat the cat down on top of his clothes and gave him a stern look. “We all need you, Cas.”  
  
Cas stared up at him, meowing.  
  
Dean fought the urge to just pick him up and hold him. “I’ll just...give you some privacy.” He turned his back, going back over to Gabriel. He waited. It was difficult to watch Gabriel’s torment. And it was torturous to walk away from Cas.  
  
He smiled when his partner knelt beside him a few minutes later, fully dressed. 

Cas cleared his throat. “Gabriel, I am going to take you to Tree of Knowledge. Perhaps we can heal you faster with more nephilim.”  
  
“I can’t get out of the plane!” Gabriel hissed as Missouri laid another soaked cloth on his wing.  
  
“Sh sh shhh,” Missouri cooed.  
  
“Breathe,” Charlie coaxed, wiping Gabe’s forehead.  
  
Castiel lightly put his hand on one of Gabriel’s wings. He healed him as much as he could, but Cas was so drained that it was little more than a mild pain reliever.  
  
Cas stopped, staring at the floor in defeat. “You said I am now able to fly to Haven?”  
  
“Yeah,” Gabe said in a tiny voice.  
  
“I’ll be back.”  
  
Dean kissed him, not even bothering to get upset when the sprite disappeared just as their kiss was ending. Instead, he focused on Gabriel, laying a calming hand on him, unable to help in any other way.  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
“Sam?” Adam called, knocking on Sam’s bedroom door as he pushed it open slowly, peeking inside. “Sam? Are you in here?”  
  
Gabriel groaned awake, blinking in the lavender haze that filtered into the bedroom window. It wasn’t the kid’s voice that had woken him. It was the burning, searing pain Sam’s hands were administering to his wing. “Quit touching me,” he mumbled, scrunching his arms beneath his chest, and pulling away, stopping only because it hurt worse when he pulled. “Tell the kid his meat-cleaver-for-hands brother is busy TORTURING ME.”  
  
Sam huffed, lifting the bandage free at last. “I would if he could hear me.”  
  
“It’s not working. Whatever it is you’re doing back there is not working. You’re killing me. Tell him that too.”  
  
“Adam still can’t hear us. We’re still in the plane,” Sam said patiently, not even rising to his harsh words.  
  
“Fine.” He snapped his fingers, looking back, under his wing to see Adam go from lavender washed hues to full color. That is, until his little face paled at the sight before him.  
  
“M-Monday?”  
  
Gabriel’s head dropped down. “What.”  
  
Sam stepped in front of the bed, doing his best to block the view. “Hey, Adam. What’s up?”  
  
“Dean sent me up to tell you that all seven towns are under control.”  
  
Sam smiled. “That’s great!”  
  
Adam nodded, leaning a little to spy on Gabriel. “Is he gonna get better?”  
  
“No,” Gabriel said tersely.  
  
Sam stepped to the side, breaking Adam’s line of vision. He steered his little brother toward the door. “Yes. He’s getting better. Slowly. Could you ask someone in the kitchen to bring me some breakfast?”  
  
“Uh huh. You look really tired, Sam.”  
  
Sam grinned down at him. “Yeah. I am. But we’re fine. Is, is Cas back yet?”  
  
Adam shook his head no. “He’s out with Dean. They went to visit one of the towns that got super burned up.”  
  
“Right,” Sam nodded. “Okay. Well, if you see him, send him up here right away.”  
  
“Okay.” Adam stepped out into the hall, turning back to him. “Is he gonna die?”  
  
“No. He just has some burns. He’s gonna be okay.”  
  
“Like when Thursday got scratched?”  
  
“Yep,” Sam nodded.  
  
“Oh!” Adam said louder, brightening, “me and Bobby tracked the horses down! We got ‘em all back!”  
  
“Wow! Were they all okay?”  
  
“Yup. ‘Cept Wisconsin and Impala had bites on their butts. Pretty sure Challenger did it ‘cause it looks like he got kicked. But they’re all fine.”  
  
Sam shook his head at his horse. “Thanks, Adam. I’m glad they’re back.”  
  
“Bye! Bye, Monday!”  
  
Adam walked down the hall, swatting at the air as if cobwebs were on him until Gabriel’s now familiar snap sounded from the bedroom and he washed into a lavender hue, walking normally again.  
  
Sam went to shut the door, forgetting he couldn’t touch it. He went back to Gabriel, who was still face down on his bed, wings draped out to either side. They had moved him once in the plane to at least be somewhere private, even though no one could see them unless they were in the plane.  
  
That had been days ago.  
  
He picked up the next cloth in the stack of clean bandages and soaked it in the bowl of medicated water.  
  
“Just stop,” Gabriel muttered. “It’s not working.”  
  
“It is working,” Sam insisted. “And when Cas gets back, it’ll be even better.”  
  
“Then quit touching them,” Gabriel sulked.  
  
Sam let the cloth soak, coming to squat down so he and Gabriel were face to face. “I’m sorry it hurts. I’m just trying to help.”  
  
Gabriel’s face tipped up to meet his eyes. “Sorry. I’ll stop bitching. I’ve just never been so...helpless.”  
  
“Let us help you,” Sam said softly.  
  
Gabriel’s head laid back down. “I’m supposed to be helping you.”  
  
The broken sound of Gabriel’s voice had Sam on the verge of tears. “Gabriel...this is just part of being human. Not healing instantly. Feeling the pain. Fighting through it. But...you aren’t alone.” All Sam could see was the back of his head, his brown hair splayed out and messy. He ventured closer, combing his fingers through his hair. Over and over in slow, steady strokes. He combed and curled the ends around his finger, watching the curls wrap around his finger. The straining wings relaxed fully, and his breathing became rhythmic and calm. He stroked, settling onto his knees until his own eyes grew heavy. Sam sighed, wishing he could do more. He pulled his hand away, deciding to let the sprite sleep, but was surprised when Gabriel turned his head, his amber eyes finally calm.  
  
Sam gave him a faint grin of encouragement.  
  
Gabriel slid one hand out from under his chest, taking Sam’s. Sam melted where he was, laying his own head down, sweeping his thumb back and forth gently. They both blinked sleepily, watching each other with a whole new sensation in the air.  
  
“I am right here,” Sam whispered.  
  
Gabriel nodded, half a grin softening the last of the strain on his face as he squeezed Sam’s hand.  
  
  
*************************************  
  
  
Castiel bit a grin at the sight before him. Sam had finally worn himself out. And Gabriel had finally calmed down. The fact that the pair were sleeping and holding hands was frankly...adorable.  
  
He did doubt, however, that Gabriel would appreciate the twelve nephilim lined up in the hall that he had brought to help heal him, being privy to such a sight.   
  
Castiel stepped out of the plane, facing the nephilim he had brought from Tree of Knowledge. “Wait here.”  
  
They nodded, waiting stoically.   
  
Dean and Charlie gave him a curious look as the Castiel took the two of them to the other plane. Dean’s curiosity cleared, replaced by an amused grin. “Well, isn’t that adorable.”  
  
“That is the exact word I was thinking,” Castiel grinned.   
  
Charlie, who had taken a break to be with Jo, stifled a coo of adoration. “They’re so cute!”  
  
They came closer, Castiel’s amusement drained as his eyes lingered on the raw wounds. Dean walked around him, waking Sam with just the lightest touch of his hand on his shoulder.  
  
Sam sat up, blinking. “What? Oh...” He looked down to his and Gabriel’s clasped hands. The movement woke Gabriel as well, who immediately winced and shifted his wings painfully.  
  
“Easy,” Sam whispered.  
  
Gabriel clung to his hand all the harder.  
  
Charlie knelt next to Sam, gently squeezing Gabriel’s forearm. “Hey! We brought you some help.”  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel said softly, “I have brought help to heal you.”  
  
“Okay,” Gabriel panted, making no signs of letting Sam’s hand go.   
  
“I apologize that it took so long, but we...we have a plan. May I bring them in now?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Yes,” Gabriel huffed.  
  
“Please,” Sam implored, looking exhausted and worried.  
  
Castiel nodded, waving the Tuesdays and Thursdays he had brought with him into the room. He had called to duty every nephilim that was able to heal. Some of them had been there when Charlie and Gabriel had broken the cuffs.  
  
Jo, Patience, and Missouri joined the group, Charlie and Missouri going to work quickly, bringing an air of solemnity and mystique to the nephilim that encircled Gabriel. Castiel took the position closest to Sam, the only nephilim actually touching the fine, velvety feathers of the mage. Charlie took the position across from him, placing a large clear crystal between his shoulder blades, placing her palm flat onto his wings. The other nephilim placed their hands along Gabriel’s body, each opening their grace, flooding Gabriel’s system. Missouri and Charlie began a steady humming that Castiel could feel. As his grace pushed forward, rebuilding damaged muscle and tissue, the pushed residue of holy oil was sung, channeled, into the crystal. He was aware of Charlie beginning to chant containment spells as Patience picked up her hum, her magic mingling with Missouri to sweep away the slick, angelic oil that clung to the wounds. With the added grace of the others, Castiel could focus on finer details, truly healing. Feeling more in control with his energy stronger, he opened his eyes. It was quite a sight to behold. Jo and Dean worked silently, one around each wing, sweeping away the ash and feathers that fell, whisking them away. The eyes of every Nephilim glowed, light radiated from their palms, and the very air was charged. Patience and Missouri’s and eyes were rolled back, bodies stiff as they channeled magic so differently than the nephilim’s self-produced grace. Nephilim grace was rooted in creation, creating, mending, building, while the witches pulled magic from the world, channeled it, and drove the unwanted oil into the crystal.   
  
Sam kept a steady grip on Gabriel’s hand, speaking to him softly, telling him to breathe, encouraging him to relax.   
  
Castiel closed his eyes again in concentration, feeling a bulge of energy. A low hum and vibration began to emanate from the crystal as the grace and magic weaved, wrapping Gabriel, diving into the creation of new feathers as the scent of something warm and floral, yet a woodsy base filled the air. It smelled like a spring breeze from Angel Woods, a sacred forest outside of Tree of Thrones. His nursemaid had told him that’s what the angels smelled like. He gripped the thought, opening his eyes briefly to see Gabriel’s new skin prickle with growing feathers. He closed his eyes, feeling his angelic roots with awe as the grace he loved so dear, glowed brighter and brighter from his hands.  
  
Feather follicles formed, sheathed, opened, and began growing. He kept his focus on their formation and growth as others pulled back to manage the pain of new growing feathers.  
  
“We need to stop soon,” Charlie warned, her voice straining.  
  
“You’re gonna blow that crystal,” Dean warned.  
  
Castiel pushed with all he had, feeding off of at least five of the other nephilim, surging the growth until their grace burst, emanating through the room like a shock wave, knocking six of the nephilim out of the looping grace.  
  
“Patience!” Missouri warned. The witch’s magic retracted, snapping into the crystal, changing the hum to a louder, lower tone. Missouri withdrew next, more subtle, as Charlie’s chants grew louder. Castiel nudged the grace of the others away until all the nephilim, one by one, pulled back, removing their hands. Castiel quickly reined in the last of the grace, his vision returning to normal as he stepped back, Dean steadying him on his feet. Charlie chanted one more time and the crystal went silent, glowing with a whitish-purple light. Missouri wrapped it in a leather skin, never touching the glowing surface, as Patience brought her a wooden box with sigils of containment painted on it. The three witches closed the crystal inside, chanting something new as the box sealed itself and all the magic dissipated with a rush of wind.  
  
Gabriel’s wings flexed, everyone but Charlie and Sam stepping back to give him room.  
  
Castiel stared at the stretch of massive wings with awe. The new feathers had grown in white, tinged in a blue so fine that it was hard to decide if they looked more white or blue.  
  
“You did it!” Sam choked out, half crying. “I could feel it! The magic!”  
  
“Yeah, it shows,” Dean said tightly. Castiel looked at Sam more closely. He no longer looked haggard. He did, however, have white streaks in his hair. Even more shocking, Gabriel’s hair had gone completely white.  
  
Charlie also had streaks of white in her red hair, and Castiel wondered about himself. Looking at Dean, he realized he must, because Dean’s eyes were wide.  
  
Gabriel let go of Sam and pushed up onto his hands, getting out of the bed. A ring of golden light still flared in his eyes. He moved his wings, taking a deep breath as they stretched and folded. He turned to the group with a look of awe. “Thanks, guys.”  
  
The nephilim, Missouri, and Patience all bowed as Charlie hugged him. The two stared at each other in surprise.  
  
“You got a little grace-singe in your hair!” Gabriel said, pulling a lock of white hair between his fingers.  
  
“You’re completely white!” Charlie said, baffled, looking at her own lock of hair.  
  
“Huh,” Gabriel said, looking at Castiel in wonder. “Shit!” He looked at the rest of the group. None were affected except Sam. “You too? You got white in your hair too!”  
  
Sam’s eyes went wide, pulling his own hair forward to see the streaks of white in his brown hair. “What the fuck!”  
  
Dean grinned at his brother. “You look...distinguished.”  
  
“I look old!” Sam gasped. He always had been fussy about his hair.  
  
Gabriel snapped a mirror into being, looking at his own reflection as Sam leaned over, looking at himself.  
  
“Damn!” Gabriel laughed. “That was some high-level healing!” He looked at Sam with a more tender smile. “You still look handsome, big guy.”  
  
Sam scoffed, stepping away from the mirror. “I’m just glad you’re better.”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “Thanks for staying with me.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam blushed, stepping back again. “It was, you’re welcome.”  
  
Gabriel looked in the mirror again with a grin. “I feel like a brand-new man!” He snapped his fingers, his hair returning to its natural golden brown.  
  
“Oo oo! Do me!” Charlie said.   
  
Castiel relaxed, fixing his own hair, knowing it was back to how it should be as Dean fussed with it with that endearing grin he got when he messed with his hair. He took Dean’s kisses with a grateful grin as he relaxed. The healing had been taxing, but much more manageable with help from the others.  
  
“Thank you, everyone!” Gabriel grinned. “Let’s get outta here!” He snapped his fingers, moving all of them to the regular plane. Charlie clapped, hugging him again.  
  
Gabriel, looking much more like himself, grinned around at the group. “So...what did I miss?”  
  
Castiel smiled ruefully. “You were our first priority, brother.”  
  
Gabriel put his hand over his heart. “I’m touched! In all my dangling places!”  
  
“There’s our Gabriel,” Jo laughed.  
  
“Party in the dining room!” Gabriel cheered, his eyebrows wagging.  
  
Everyone filed out of the bedroom with lighter hearts. Donna weaved her way inside. “Gabriel! I was so worried!” She hugged him, kissed his cheek, and left him with three cookies. “Just thought ya might want a little somethin’ sweet after all the magic hullabaloo,” she winked.  
  
“My girl!” He winked back.  
  
Castiel closed the bedroom door behind Donna as she left with the others, leaving Jo, Charlie, Dean, Sam, himself, and Gabriel in the little bedroom.  
  
“I apologize for jumping right in, but I need to update you on several developments.” Gabriel waved Castiel on to continue. “I have everyone in Knowledge on the look-out for Michael. I am leaving to meet with Samandriel to find out what they know. Legion of Monday has all been brought to Freeland for their protection. They were being hunted while we were dealing with war here in Lawrence. You lost a lot of good nephilim, Gabriel, but all the remaining Mondays are safe now.”  
  
“The children?” Gabriel asked, sitting on the chair by the window.  
  
“Yes,” Castiel assured him. “The Sundays are currently being weeded out and put in jail.”  
  
“Haven has a jail?” Jo asked.  
  
“Indeed. Until a few days ago, we rarely had anyone in it. But it is quite full at the moment. Gadreel insists he has it all under control though.”  
  
“Won’t they use magic to get out?” Charlie asked.  
  
“The jail is built on the remains of Lilith, a powerful, ancient demon that was killed during the angel wars. It is a fortified quarter acre of grace-draining, cursed land. Humans guard the prisoners, the inmates are nephilim that have no access to their grace,” Gabriel explained.  
  
“That’s...awesome,” Dean smirked. “So, they got zero juice there?”  
  
“None,” Castiel assured him.   
  
“Oh, tell him about Freeland,” Charlie added.  
  
“Yes, the nephilim dispatched to Freeland are helping the people rebuild. They have been well received, unlike the majority of the ones placed here in Lawrence. They report the people have little contact with them and seem very distrusting.”  
  
“Wait...how long was I out?” Gabriel asked, frowning around at the group.  
  
“It has been a week since you were attacked by Alastair,” Castiel said gently.  
  
“A week?” Gabriel said in shock, looking at Sam for a brief moment. “Shit.”  
  
Castiel went on. “The battles Michael began all over Lawrence were ended, all of them in our victory. Demons were exorcised and Leviathan killed. Haven was in a state of civil war when you left it, and I would still consider it so, until all the Sundays and Michael are dealt with.” Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, facing Gabriel. “I am sorry you suffered for so long, Gabriel. I was not enough to heal you. It took Charlie and Missouri doing research with Metatron to come up with this plan today.”  
  
Gabriel nodded soberly. “Well, it worked. I feel great. Now we need to just get that freakin’ Michael. And I have an idea where he might be.”  
  
Castiel’s brow arched in question. Any lead would help.  
  
“I have a feeling that rat ran to Purgatory. His big plan is with the human farms.”  
  
“That actually makes sense,” Sam nodded. “That town, the ghost town with the farm.”  
  
“Gunnison,” Charlie nodded.  
  
“Sounds like a good place to start,” Dean declared. “Tomorrow. Tonight, we eat, drink, and sleep in real fucking beds.”  
  
The group nodded.  
  
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” Gabriel nodded. “I already filled the dining room with a feast of food.”  
  
“Dude!” Dean got fully to his feet. “Let’s go before they eat it all!” He opened the door with a playful grin. “Glad you’re back, Gabe.”  
  
“Me too,” Gabriel nodded, standing.  
  
Jo, Charlie, and Castiel filed out of the room. Dean hesitated, but caught Gabriel snagging Sam by the wrist, holding him back. Dean gave them both a nod as he closed the bedroom door and they headed downstairs.  
  
Sam turned to Gabriel. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t even remember much of it. Seems like only yesterday I fought Michael and flew here to get Cassie’s help. I just couldn’t shake that freakin’ demon.” He shivered at the memory of Michael fleeing as Alastair and Sunday nephilim swarmed him. He pushed the memories away with a shiver. “I do remember that you were always here.”  
  
Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously, eyes dropping to the floor. “You saved me. I...it really freaked me out that someone like you took a bullet for me like that. You almost died, Gabriel! Because of me!” Sam shook his head, obvious remorse written all over his expressive face and loaded in his puppy-dog eyes.  
  
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “I would do it again.”  
  
Shocked, Sam scoffed, “Why?”  
  
Gabriel tossed around several ways to answer that. “I’ve known a lot of people in my time, Sam. Humans, nephilim, the occasional monster. But never have I met a more self-sacrificing group of people in my life.”  
  
“Well...Dean, yeah.”  
  
Gabriel shook his head. “You, Sam. You ride right into battle. The others do too, but you know exactly why you are where you are. You ask. You question. You research.”  
  
Sam stared at him in wonder.  
  
“I know I’m a busy guy. And Dean and Cas are the love story of the century, blah, blah, blah. But you are the quiet hero.”  
  
Sam was blushing now, frowning at all the attention.  
  
Gabriel stepped a little closer. “People think I’m just the goofball that happened to be born with a lot of grace.”  
  
“No one thinks that,” Sam insisted.  
  
“I’m the party guy,” Gabriel grinned, snapping his fingers, Sam’s room instantly decorated in streaming vines with gaudy, huge pink flowers.  
  
“You command an army!” Sam argued, glancing at his room curiously.  
  
“I do. Because it has to be done.”  
  
“Well, that’s a big deal, Gabriel!” Sam assured him.  
  
“My point is there’s a lot of big things happening. And you never shy away from them. Ever. You killed Azazel.”  
  
Sam stammered at that.  
  
“You killed Alastair.”  
  
Sam’s jaw firmed. He nodded. “I did.”  
  
“You treat your friends like family. And you treat your family like you love them.”  
  
Sam nodded. “That’s how I was raised.”  
  
Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Not by that jack-ass John Winchester. He’s out for number one. Don’t think I’m not onto him. He can’t wait until we’re out of Lawrence.”  
  
Sam waited, looking worried.  
  
“You and Dean are pretty damn special.” Gabriel grinned, almost laughing as he stepped back. “You stayed with me for a week. You were still nice on day seven, even though I was bitching and whining any damn chance I got.”  
  
“You were in a lot of pain,” Sam explained.  
  
Gabriel stepped forward, his eyes alight with intensity. “Will you tell me what they look like?”  
  
“What?” Sam asked.  
  
“My wings. They feel...different. The new feathers they grew hurt like a bitch. I just want to see them better.”  
  
“Sure, sure,” Sam offered, smiling a little. “The new feathers were white. Or blue. It was hard to tell.”  
  
Gabriel nodded, pulling them into the other plane. He immediately arched his wings, stretched them out and let the relax. He turned around, the tip of one wing brushing across Sam’s chest. Without thinking, Sam lifted a hand to catch more of the passing wing on his palm.  
  
Gabriel grinned as Sam blushed, hiding a smile.  
  
Gabriel looked away, holding his wings out. “Can you show me where the new feathers are?”  
  
“Show you how?” Sam asked, his eyes traveling the new look of Gabriel’s wings.  
  
“Just...touch the ones that are new.”  
  
Sam’s hands fidgeted. “You...want me to touch your wings? Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”  
  
Gabriel nodded. “It is. Aside from Cassie and Charlie, no one but you has had the honor.  
  
Sam would have scoffed, but it was true. It was an honor to handle the wings of a nephilim. “I’m sorry if I did something I shouldn’t have.”  
  
Gabriel lowered one wing, peeking over his shoulder with a teasing grin. “Feathers remember. Like your nose remembers that grass smells like grass and grass reminds you of playing in the mansion gardens as a child. The smell of fresh grass makes me happy.” Their eyes met again. “The feel of your hands makes me happy.”  
  
Sam smiled more confidently, stepping up to Gabriel’s back. “Um...this one,” he touched a blue-white feather close to the top ridge of his right wing. All the feathers fluffed, rippling flat.  
  
“Okay,” Gabriel grinned.  
  
“Here,” Sam touched another. “Here, three right here,” he ran his finger down the spines of three feathers, grinning as his wings puffed and rippled again.  
  
“Here, and here,” Sam went on, his voice getting softer. “All the tips at the edges.”  
  
Gabriel folded his wings in, touching his own feathers. “What the hell?”  
  
Sam looked over his shoulder at the white tips. “Your wings started turning to Ash. In the plane. That was right after the fire. We were all so scared.” He put his hand on what was supposed to be Gabriel’s shoulder, but was blocked by his wing. The touch made Gabriel tip his head toward him with his eyes closed.  
  
Regaining some kind of strength or resolve, Gabriel opened his eyes again, his shoulders sagging. Sam stepped back as Gabriel opened his wings again. “Where else?”  
  
Sam touched every new feather, changing from touching with a point, to sliding down the spines, to feeling the incredibly soft feathers between his fingertips. When he got to where the largest wound had been, he used two hands to show him how large the bluish-white area was.  
  
Sam stopped, his hands still stroking the white feathers with gentle care. Gabriel had gone quiet.  
  
“The new feathers feel so silky. Like...rose petals. Your other feathers feel silky too, but in a more velvety way. These are so...new.”  
  
The feathers were flat, almost resistant to lift one from the other. Sam, seeing the sad look on Gabriel’s face, put his hands on the ridges of the wings, sliding them both along the thick ridges. As Gabriel shivered, his feathers finally moved under his touch again, Sam kissed the top edge of one wing. “They are beautiful.”  
  
He heard the hitch in Gabriel’s disbelieving laugh. “They’ll go back to black eventually.”  
  
Sam smoothed each ridge down, stroking the largest spot with the back of his knuckles. “I hope not.”  
  
Gabriel’s head turned, their eyes meeting. They stared at each other for a long moment until Gabriel looked away, turning to face him again. “Well, even as messed up as they are, I’m glad to have my wings back.”  
  
Sam grinned, shaking his head. “They look amazing! Gabriel, you are...stunning.”  
  
Gabriel grinned crookedly, his wings perking up.  
  
“Shit,” Sam stammered. Pulling back a step, one hand covering his mouth.  
  
Gabriel’s smile sobered. “You touched my wings a lot, Sam.”  
  
“I’m sorry if that was wrong!”  
  
Gabriel shook his head no. “I would have stopped you. But it felt so...good. Kinda...really good.”  
  
Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I...we’re bonded, aren’t we?”  
  
Gabriel bit his lip. “Pretty sure. If not, we’re at least partially bonded.”  
  
“Are you mad?” Sam asked, looking hesitant and worried again.  
  
“No,” Gabriel chuckled. “I mean, I woulda picked a better way to do it. Like biting you while we were mid orgasm.” Sam’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know. Billie or Metatron may be able to explain it. All I know is, I can feel you on a whole new level.”  
  
Sam nodded. “I felt your pain. I know you’re sad about your wings!” Sam met his eyes in a rush, stepping into his space. “And when you got happier, I felt it! They’re beautiful, Gabe, you are...”  
  
Sam took one brief, unsure look before leaning down to kiss Gabriel full and tender. “You are beautiful. And brave,” Sam added, kissing Gabe again and again.   
  
As they pulled apart, staring at each other in happy surprise, Gabriel pulled them out of the plane. 

Sam frowned, squinting. “It’s so...bright out here. And cold.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “We were in that plane for days. I feel so...heavy. Like when you first get out of a lake after floating in it for a long time.”

Gabriel stepped closer to him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Heat and energy fueled Sam’s body.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled crookedly, wrapping an arm around Gabriel shyly.

Gabriel leaned into Sam, closing his eyes as he took a steadying breath.

“We better join the others. But I hope I can impose on your bedroom just one more night.”  
  
“Just one?” Sam smirked. He took Gabriel’s hand, opening the bedroom door. “Consider yourself permanently invited.”  
  
“Permanently!” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows with a chuckle as they headed down the stairs to join the others.  
  
  



	29. Always and Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for a reckoning.
> 
> But first, let’s have a party :P

Chapter 29: Always and Forever  
  
  
  
Sam sat down at the table next to Dean. The feast Gabriel had snapped up was like nothing the folks of Lawrence were accustomed to. Between the town’s recent attack, the weeks of war-strained stress, and the news that Gabriel was alive and well, the people were eating like there was no tomorrow and feeling quite happy after a long stint of grey, cold, winter days.  
  
Fires burned warmly in the three huge fireplaces along the long wall of the bunker’s largest dining hall. The buffet table along the opposite wall from the fireplaces was heavy with food and drinks. Some were familiar and some were completely foreign.  
  
Dean gasped when Cas sat two steaming mugs of coffee on the table, pushing one over to a stunned Sam.  
  
Dean pulled the mug to his chest, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow inhale of the drink he craved every morning for the past two years.  
  
He took a slow drink, savoring the hot swallow of pure wonder. “Oooohhh...Castiel...” He grinned at the heat and the flavor that brought back a slew of good memories of mornings growing up here and mornings around a campfire during a hunt. He grinned deeper at the soft, rumbling chuckle of his lover and hero.  
  
“Oh, fuck that’s good,” Sam sighed next to him, close to tears.  
  
Dean took another, longer drink before sitting the mug on the table. He stood up, facing Cas. Their eyes met, Castiel’s blue and excited, Dean’s green and determined with something Cas tipped his head at to understand.  
  
Dean turned toward the room before him. Everyone was here. His family. His friends. His people. Some of Cas’ people. He whistled loudly, everyone freezing in their places to stare at him.  
  
“Evening, everyone,” Dean said, catching curious looks from Bobby, his dad, Charlie, everyone. Everyone except Sam, who sat back, grinning up at his brother with absolute joy and pride in his eyes. “While we have a happy minute, I’d like to take the opportunity to ask someone very special, something very important.”  
  
He turned to Cas, who was staring at him in utter confusion. Dean huffed a laugh. “You’re so damn adorable when you’re confused.”  
  
Cas glanced at Sam, then Gabriel, before meeting his eyes again. He leaned forward with his brow crinkled. “Is this about the coffee?”  
  
“Yes!” Dean laughed. He knelt down on one knee. “Castiel, Mage of Thursday, man of my dreams, and the other half of my soul, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”  
  
Castiel’s jaw dropped. His eyes flared, his wings bursting into ashy being. The entire room gasped, except Dean, who only grinned up at him even harder.  
  
Castiel knelt, matching his pose. “I would be honored to marry you, Dean Winchester.”  
  
Dean’s chest squeezed hard as tears sprang to his eyes. The room broke out in noisy applause as he leaned forward, kissing the one and only person who matched him completely in every way. “I love you,” Dean whispered.  
  
“I love you,” Castiel said breathlessly, kissing him again.   
  
“You guys are so weird!” Gabriel laughed. “Why do you associate food and drink with marriage proposals?”  
  
Sam laughed, toasting Gabriel with his mug of coffee. “We take our food and, most definitely, our coffee, very seriously.”  
  
“Well, shit,” Gabriel grinned, standing up. “On behalf of the happy couple!” He snapped his fingers, mugs of steaming coffee appearing beside every person’s plate.  
  
The room filled with shocked gasps, cheers, and drinking.  
  
Sam stood up, hugging Dean, rocking back and forth. “I’m so happy for you, Dean!”  
  
Dean gripped his baby brother tight. They still had so much to do. They still had Michael to deal with. But this moment was a sweet celebration that Dean was happy to have shared with everyone, especially Sammy.  
  
Adam patted the brothers urgently, making them break apart and look down at him. “Dean! Are you gonna marry Thursday?”  
  
Dean grinned at Cas as he picked his little brother up. “I sure am. You might wanna start calling him by his name though.”  
  
Adam held his arms out to be passed to Cas. Cas took him, hugging him. “Are you gonna take care good care of Dean?”  
  
“Always,” Cas swore like an oath. “And he will take care of me.”  
  
Adam nodded, biting his lip. “Can I still call you Thursday?”  
  
Cas rolled his eyes with a grin. “Absolutely. You were my first friend here, Adam. Therefore, you earned the right to call me thus.”  
  
Adam hugged him tight. “I love you, Uncle Thursday.”  
  
Dean exchanged a shared look of adoration with Sam as Castiel closed his eyes, fighting back tears as he hugged Adam tight. “I love you, Adam.”  
  
Adam sat back, peering into Castiel’s eyes. “Daddy says you’re going to kill the bad sprite, Sunday, and then take Dean away. Is that true?”  
  
Castiel’s eyes slid over to John in the crowd as Dean sighed with regret. “You are welcome in my home, Adam, no matter where it will be.” He met Adam’s eyes with certainty. “That is what family does.”  
  
Adam nodded, twisting his mouth to the side. “Dad says he’s sorry. He thinks you’re still mad at him.”  
  
Castiel kissed Adam’s forehead. “And family forgives. Even when they are angry, they are family.”  
  
“Since we’re gonna be family, can I get a sigil with you?” Adam asked shyly.  
  
Castiel seemed to shake off the mention of John quickly. He grinned at Adam. “I would be honored.”  
  
Adam grinned sudden and wide, hugging Cas one more time before wiggling down and weaving his way into Gabriel’s side. “This mean we’re family too?”  
  
“Yep!” Gabriel grinned, touching Adam’s nose, his ears sprouting into the long ears of a hound dog.  
  
Adam squealed, laughing. He shook his head, feeling the ears. “Gabriel!”  
  
“Who?” Gabriel laughed, touching his forehead, the ears shriveling away to sprout orange tabby cat ears on his head.  
  
Adam turned in a circle, trying to see the ears he could feel. “Monday!”  
  
Gabriel laughed, snapping his fingers to add a tail and whiskers.  
  
“Look!” Adam laughed, running to his group of friends as they touched his ears and tail, laughing.  
  
“You always a hit at the parties?” Sam asked, his entertained grin turning warmer as he looked at Gabriel.  
  
“Always!” Gabriel laughed, snapping his fingers, the other kids in Adam’s group sprouting cow horns, pig noses, feathers for hair, and another sprouting a huge plumage of peacock feathers. The group laughed and ran, the adults either laughing or looking horrified.  
  
“Gabriel,” Castiel warned.  
  
“They’re having fun!” Gabriel laughed, watching them. “There’re so many children here!”  
  
“Can I get a tail?” A little girl asked Gabriel nervously, her hands perching on the edge of the table across from him.  
  
Gabriel leaned forward, smiling at her. “What kind of tail?”  
  
She bit her lip, smiling with wide eyes. “An alligator tail!”  
  
“Alligator!” Gabriel laughed, snapping his fingers.  
  
The girl whirled around, staring at the thick tail behind her, shouting with laughter as she joined the others.  
  
Dean chuckled, noting the concerned look on his dad’s face. He leaned forward, Sam leaning back so he could see Gabriel clearly. “You’re gonna freak the adults out, Trickster.” Though he said it with a grin, he was relieved when Gabriel nodded back and snapped his fingers.  
  
The tails, noses, and ears all burst into paper confetti with little pops. The children gathered the papers like leaves, tossing them up in celebration, all the worried adults simmering down.  
  
Sam chuckled, patting Gabriel’s arm. “Guess they aren’t quite ready for your style of partying.”  
  
Gabriel sat back, grinning at Sam slyly, taking the hand that was patting him in his, holding it. Dean suspected something might crop up between the two of them. After all, the time Sam spent touching Gabriel’s wings, with Gabriel looking on (in pain or not), had been a bigger deal than his moose of a brother ever suspected.  
  
Gabriel got up to mingle and thank each of the nephilim that had come to help heal him. Sam and Dean sat back, sipping their coffees as Dean held Cas’ hand, stroking his skin gently. He and Cas getting married was a given, at this point. But Sam...he wasn’t sure what would become of that.  
  
Sam leaned closer to him. “So...any...uh...any tips or whatever for having sex with a sprite?”  
  
Dean choked on his coffee.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” He laughed, coughing again.   
  
Sam blushed profusely.  
  
Castiel cleared his throat, looking over the crowd, pointedly ignoring the brothers.   
  
Dean grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth off and cough again. “Can you fill me up, Cas?” Dean handed his mug to his...fiancé. Cas took it with a loaded grin, cupping it in his hands. The brown liquid rose until it was near the brim and he handed it back.  
  
Dean took another sip, procrastinating.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispered more urgently.  
  
“Dude,” Dean stated, staring out at the crowd.  
  
“Can you at least give me some...pointers? Or like, what to expect?”  
  
Dean’s jaw dropped as he stared at Sam. “Pointers? Dude.”  
  
Sam, still blushing, glanced around nervously. “Anything?”  
  
Dean groaned. What would he have wished to know before his first time with Cas? Would he have believed it anyway? Probably not.  
  
“Well...” he sighed, wincing as Sam leaned closer. “You remember what I said about the orgasms?”  
  
“That was true?” Sam whispered.  
  
Dean finally met his brother’s eyes. “Yes. Very.”  
  
“Wow,” Sam said under his breath. “So...what else?”  
  
Dean leaned toward him. “They, well, Cas anyway, does this thing...”  
  
“What thing?” Sam prompted.  
  
Dean squinted, taking another sip. “This...feeling thing. He pushes his feelings into me and...whew...man, it amps EVERYTHING up like...ten times.”  
  
Sam’s eyes went wide. “Like, what kind of feelings?”  
  
Dean stared at him. “Sam.”  
  
“Sorry!” Sam waved a hand in front of himself, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to know.”  
  
Dean sat back, sipping his coffee.   
  
“Do I?” Sam asked, immediately changing his mind. “Never mind! So...anything else?”  
  
Dean stared at the crowd, glancing at Cas before looking at his brother again. “You sure you wanna get involved with Gabriel like that?”  
  
Sam bit his lip, not meeting his eyes.  
  
“It’s intense, Sammy. And frankly, I’m ruined from any other kind of sex, cause...” his eyebrows lifted, letting his brother fill in the blank.  
  
Sam stared at him with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and excitement. “Okay. I get it.”  
  
Dean pursed his lips. “You have no idea.”  
  
Sam chuckled, sipping his coffee.  
  
“So, I take it Gabriel got all friendly since you were touching his wings so much.”  
  
Sam nodded. “He’s kinda been flirting with me since we met. Then...” he blushed, looking like he was not going to continue.  
  
“Then what?” Dean pressed.  
  
“I...well...when he brought me home from New Harmony...I, um...I asked him if I could touch his wings.”  
  
Dean’s brows shot up.  
  
“He said that was for mates. And I asked him how you got to be mates, which he gave me a completely unnecessarily explicit explanation of.”  
  
Dean covered his eyes with his hand. “Sam.”  
  
“What? I don’t understand sprite terminology! Dude! He said,” Sam leaned in close, “he said they bite! Did Cas bite you?”  
  
“No!” Dean scoffed, glancing at Cas surreptitiously, noting he was talking to another nephilim. “Not yet. We’re already bonded though, thanks to me dying and all.”  
  
Sam nodded, a note of curiosity fading. “So, after he told me all that...I kinda...”  
  
It was Dean’s turn to be all curiosity.  
  
Sam’s blush deepened. “I kinda kissed him.”  
  
Dean’s mouth ticked up in an amused grin.  
  
“And it got kinda...handsy.”  
  
“Okay,” Dean cut him off, moving away slightly.  
  
“I couldn’t stop myself! I just had to...”  
  
Dean nodded, staring into his coffee.  
  
“I had to touch them! They’re so...soft! And warm and strong and so...”  
  
“Hot,” the brothers said together, Dean nodding, hoping Sam would shut up now.  
  
“Then he brought me home and honestly I thought I pissed him off. I broke some kind of...code or something. He said his wings were for his mate only, which he doesn’t have...so of course I apologized for being a horny dickwad.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes. “At least you didn’t tell him you liked dogs and weren’t wolves nice like dogs. Wait, you didn’t compare him to a bird, did you?”  
  
Sam groaned. “That isn’t what I said to her.”  
  
“Close enough!” Dean laughed.  
  
“Okay, okay. So then, he swooped in at the bunker and saved me. And...”  
  
“We all saw that.”  
  
“He gave me permission before I touched them! There was no way once the flames were out that I would touch him again without his permission. And he said yes and...I swear, I’m freaking addicted to them!”  
  
Dean stared at Sam in bemusement.  
  
Sam shook his head, surprised with himself as well. “I couldn’t stop. I was so afraid he was going to die. Not because of the war...but because...I really like him. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot.”  
  
Dean snorted a soft laugh. “Welcome to the club. It’s kind of a fucked-up club right now, but it’s bound to improve.”  
  
Sam grinned back crookedly.  
  
“Wait until he starts talking about having babies and changing body parts around so one of you can carry the baby.”  
  
Sam’s eyes grew so wide that Dean had to laugh. Then laugh harder.  
  
Sam stood up abruptly, pulling Dean out of the hall and into an empty parlor down the corridor. He closed the door, staring at him hard. “Say that again.”  
  
Dean licked his lips, squared his shoulders, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Mages gotta have kids. Apparently it’s a big deal for their bloodlines or whatever. If it’s two guys...one of them has to carry the babies.”  
  
Sam’s jaw hung open; his eyes still huge as saucers. “What! You have TALKED about this?!”  
  
Dean smirked. “A little.”  
  
“A little! You’re gonna...” Sam pointed at Dean’s stomach, swinging his finger back and forth. “You’re gonna have a baby?!”  
  
“Or Cas!” Dean sniped defensively.  
  
Sam stared, unblinking.  
  
Dean relented, his arms lifting in admission. “I know! It’s nuts. And you know and I know, and Cas will figure out soon that...yeah. Yeah. I’m gonna have babies.”  
  
“What the fuck?!” Sam guffawed, staggering back, pacing in a circle. “You! Badass, macho, never even go to breakfast on a day off without wearing my sword, Dean Winchester are gonna get,” he formed a big ball in front of his own stomach, brows arched so high they almost hit his hairline.  
  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest again, staring at his idiot brother. “Yes.”  
  
Sam staggered back a step and laughed. He mumbled something in a high-pitched, un-Sam-like manner before flopping onto the formal sofa. “You’re gonna get pregnant.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
“That means...I could get...” he repeated the ball thing.  
  
“It’s no joke, Sam. You better think twice before you get too much more involved with Gabriel.”  
  
Sam stared straight ahead in shock. “He never mentioned this.”  
  
“Yeah, well...Cas is way more direct than Gabriel. He was probably saving it for later.”  
  
Still staring ahead, Sam just sat there in awe.  
  
Dean moved to one of the chairs, sitting down. “Look, Gabriel might not be that serious. He doesn’t strike me as the tied down sort of guy. Sprite. Nephilim.”  
  
Sam didn’t move.  
  
“Sam.”  
  
Sam turned, eyes still glassy and unfocused, mouth still hanging open.  
  
Dean frowned. He was shocked as Sam’s eyes grew red around the edges and his mouth finally closed as he swallowed hard. “Wait,” he said, pulling back, staring at his brother like he might rupture or explode. “Are you gonna cry?” He pressed back in his chair, completely not ready for a crying Sam.  
  
Sam cleared his throat, finally blinking. “Are you gonna leave? Are you gonna go to Haven?”  
  
Dean frowned again. “Dude...I’m not going anywhere without you.”  
  
Sam’s head tipped, his eyes watered dangerously, and the puppy-dog look was out in FULL force. “Really?”  
  
Dean scoffed. “Always and forever. We swore.”  
  
Sam choked on a laugh. “We were...little! I was like four!”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Why do you think I stuck around for Dad’s bullshit? I was waiting for you.”  
  
Sam stared at him again. “You never said anything!”  
  
“You weren’t ready to leave,” Dean explained. “I was planning on asking you if you wanted to visit Cesar and Jesse’s and maybe stay there when spring rolled around. But then Dad got kidnapped and we went to war.”  
  
“Dean...I...”  
  
Dean nodded. “I know.”  
  
Sam swallowed hard again.  
  
“Cas knows. He knows you and I are kind of a package deal.”  
  
Sam’s eyes widened. “You are serious.”  
  
Dean cleared his throat. “Why the hell would I want to move away without you?”  
  
Sam scoffed. “I don’t know! I...”  
  
Dean thought back to when Sam was almost five. It was a brutal winter. Their dad hadn’t shown up in days and the inn they were staying at kicked them out. Dean smuggled the two of them onto a train, then they walked for three days to Bobby’s house. He was eight. He was too little to have any business being out on the road. And when they got to Bobby’s, he broke down and cried like a baby as the man picked him up and hugged him for a long time. Sam cried. Bobby cried. And then Bobby got angry. Not at them. At their dad. Bobby left them in a rage.  
  
“You take care of Sam and watch the house,” Bobby had said. He rode off, leaving them on the porch.  
  
Sam had started to hyperventilate, gasping as Bobby rode out of sight. “Hehehehehehe left us!” Sam had cried, wailing, in as much shock as Dean.  
  
Dean did the only thing he knew to do. He went inside, pulling Sammy behind him. He stoked the fire. He got every blanket Bobby owned and they huddled up in front of the fire. Neither of them said anything until Dean threw more wood on the fire. He turned, kneeling in front of Sam, making him look at him. “It’s just you and me, Sammy. No matter what. We don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of us.”  
  
“What about Bobby?” Sam had asked, still trembling.  
  
Dean had scoffed. “Guess he left too.” He took Sam by the shoulder. “We don’t need anyone else. It’s you and me. Always. Forever.”  
  
Sam wiped his cheeks off and pulled up his sleeve. They grasped arms, thumbs covering their sigil. The sigil with the W and a dagger over the top. Winchester family.  
  
“We’ll get our own sigil,” Dean swore. “I’m never gonna leave you behind, Sam. Ever.”  
  
Sam nodded. “I won’t leave you either, Dean. Never.”  
  
It had only been a few hours when Bobby’s friend Jody showed up, cooked them dinner and helped them get cleaned up. But Sam never cried again when their dad disappeared. He never worried when Dean went hunting. They had gotten their sigil. They forgave Bobby for leaving in a rush to track down their dad. They forgave their dad over and over for disappointing them. No one else mattered really. Not when you had your brother forever and always.  
  
Sam looked up at Dean. He stood, pulling up his sleeve. Dean swallowed hard, doing the same. They clasped arms, hugging.  
  
“Love you, Dean.”  
  
“Love you too, Sam.”  
  
Sam stood back, still gripping Dean’s arm firmly, his thumb still pressing into their sigil. The infinity symbol with lines protruding from it. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean. You deserve the life you want to live.”  
  
“Oh, I intend to get it. And you’ll be in it,” Dean swore.  
  
Sam’s determined mouth wobbled, close to tears.  
  
“Always,” Dean insisted, pressing Sam’s sigil.  
  
“And forever,” Sam swore back, pressing Dean’s.  
  
They hugged again, slapping each other’s backs as they stepped apart, Sam quickly wiping a tear away.  
  
“So...Raton, huh?” Sam asked, pulling himself together.  
  
Dean shrugged. “I got no clue. Back then, living on a horse farm sounded pretty damn good. Now...I don’t know. And if Lawrence decides to block sprites...” he shook his head.  
  
“I kinda liked New Harmony,” Sam grinned.  
  
Dean scoffed. “I knew you had a thing for that girl.”  
  
Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “I have no ‘thing’ for that girl. She was nice. I helped her home,” Sam insisted, laughing. “But Gabriel...”  
  
Dean’s brows crept up again. “Even after what I told you?”  
  
Sam chewed his lip. “Sounds pretty amazing, really.”  
  
Dean smirked, holding his hands out in an imaginary pregnant belly and waddled a few steps. “Sam! Help me put my boots on! I can’t see my own toes!”  
  
The pair dissolved into laughter, shoving each other gently.  
  
“I’ll put your freakin’ boots on, ya pain my ass,” Sam grinned.  
  
“Damn right, you will!” Dean chuckled. “And I’ll help your old, arthritic ass bring firewood in until one of us is sittin’ in the veil.”  
  
Sam chuckled sadly with a nod. “Cas knows, huh?”  
  
Dean sighed with a sappy grin. “Cas knows all sorts of shit about me. You. Our family.” He shrugged. “He isn’t going anywhere without us.”  
  
Sam stepped over to the door, opening it. “When are you getting married?”  
  
Dean followed him into the noisy hallway. “Soon as we get a damn minute.”  
  
Sam nodded, slinging an arm around him. “Guess I’ll stay away from Gabe’s wings until I know for sure...or HE knows for sure, that...”  
  
“That you wanna do the nephilim bond?” Dean laughed.  
  
Sam stopped, his brows knitting. “He said we were already sort of bonded.”  
  
Dean turned, Sam’s arm falling away. “You serious?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam grinned, feeling a warm, velvety presence. “He’s in the dining hall wondering where we are.”  
  
Dean’s eyes went wide. “Be careful, Sammy. Getting tied up with a sprite is...well, there’s no going back, it seems.”  
  
Sam shrugged. “I’ve never seen you happier.” He kept walking, glancing around before leaning closer to him, “Didn’t know you were so into being tied up.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, shoving his brother into the dining hall. Cas and Gabriel had been crowded close, talking about something when both their faces lit up at the sight of them walking in.  
  
“You have no idea,” Dean murmured, winking at Cas.  
  
Dean kissed Cas as soon as he was close enough to him.  
  
“Your father was looking for you,” Cas said quietly.  
  
Dean glanced around the busy room, Kate and John headed his way. “I see he’s still here. Guess that means you didn’t shove him back to Lebanon Road.”  
  
“Or out to sea,” Cas sighed, mustering a grin at the approaching pair.  
  
Dean laughed. “You are not allowed to drop him in the ocean.”  
  
Cas stiffened the closer the pair came. “Fine.”  
  
Dean shook his head with a grin. Damn, he loved how powerful his sprite was. Even if it tipped to the dangerous side of things sometimes.  
  
“Dean!” Kate called, hugging him. “Congratulations! That was so, well, unexpected!”  
  
Dean smirked. “We’re already marked, bonded, all that. Cas wasn’t surprised, were you?”  
  
Cas shrugged. “A little. I’ll be sure to always have coffee on hand.”  
  
“Congrats,” John grinned, hugging Dean. He turned to Cas more hesitantly. “I know we, uh, got off on a bad foot, but congratulations, Your Highness.”  
  
Cas gave him a cool look of appreciation. “Thank you.”  
  
John winced a little. “Yeah, I, uh...I’ve been talking to the other sheriffs. I know you and your kind have our best interests at heart. And I apologize for...using you all so harshly in this war.”  
  
Cas stared stoically, giving him the tiniest of nods.   
  
John leaned closer. “Gotta say, you kinda scare the shit out of me.”  
  
Dean snorted a laugh, Kate batting John’s arm with a shake of her head.  
  
“Oh no,” John clarified. “I’m serious. It’s been pee pee pants city for me lately.”  
  
Cas frowned at him as Dean stared at his dad in shock. He’d seen his dad fight demons. Kill werewolves with silver daggers no bigger than his hand. Take on Samuel and the other Campbells where any other man would have crumbled. Cas might not realize what an admission this was, but Dean did.  
  
“It’s gonna be fine, Dad,” he assured him.  
  
John nodded, stepping back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say, welcome to the family. It will be an honor to call you my son-in-law.”  
  
Cas blinked a few times, his demeanor softening. “Thank you, John.”  
  
John nodded as Kate hugged Cas, welcoming him to the family as well.  
  
As they walked away, Cas finally let himself smile a little. “I’m glad I didn’t just smite him when I returned from Haven.”  
  
Dean stared at him, whacking his arm. “You aren’t smiting anyone. Calm down.”  
  
Cas gave him an apologetic look. “Alright.”  
  
Dean shook his head. Being in love with Cas was like loving a comet. He repeatedly had to strap on for the unexpectedly bumpy ride.  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
Castiel snapped his fingers, loving the grin Dean got every time he removed their clothes so easily. He slid into bed, exhausted. While the others went on celebrating, the leaders had gone into a meeting again about how to handle tomorrow. Tomorrow they would go to Haven, or anywhere, in order to track down Michael.  
  
As Dean slid in beside him, their body heat warming each other between the chilly sheets, Cas thought about the eventful day.  
  
Gabriel was healed.  
Dean had proposed to him.  
John had apologized.  
  
He closed his eyes, a smile of satisfaction tipping his lips.  
  
“Told Sam about me maybe having kids someday.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes popped open. “You did?” He turned, looking at Dean, who was watching him in the dark from the pillow next to his. “We do not need to make any decisions like that yet.”  
  
Dean shrugged a shoulder. “It really freaked me out at first. I kinda pretended it wasn’t really a thing. Then...it just wasn’t that big of a deal, ya know?”  
  
Castiel grinned at his brave human. “It is a big deal. Even nephilim fear it, Dean.”  
  
Dean swallowed, licking his lips. “Oh. Well...we didn’t get a family-starter for nothin’. I’m on board. Ya know...someday.”  
  
Castiel grinned, turning to stare at him. “Someday. Indeed.” He smiled, a thrill springing to his chest. “You did ask me to marry you.”  
  
Dean inched closer, wrapping a leg around his hip. “I did. And you said yes.”  
  
Castiel grinned. Dean’s words made his heart light. And although he would probably step into a battle with Michael tomorrow, he liked to think that surviving it would bring him the greatest joy he would ever know. Life with Dean.  
  
“How about you make me forget about what waits for us tomorrow,” Dean whispered, leaning in to kiss him.  
  
Battle awaited them.  
  
He pulled Dean onto his chest, then pulled them to the other plane, wrapping his wings around them, sliding his fingers along Dean’s naked body, loving how he pressed up into them like a cat rubbing against a leg.  
  
His low moan brought Castiel to full, focused attention. He leaned up, kissing Dean, telling him, and showing him how much he loved him.  
  
“Please get inside me,” Dean whispered reverently, sitting up, raking his fingers through Castiel’s wings, making him arch up in desire. “I want you, all over me,” Dean whispered, pulling Castiel’s wings to hug harder around him.  
  
Castiel growled back in response, gripping Dean’s hips, opening him with grace, lubricating as he watched Dean’s pupils dilate and back arch as he swept his wing harder across his back. He grinned as he lifted him, slowly letting him sink down on top of him. He watched as Dean’s eyelids grew heavy and he gripped the top ridges of his wings to lever himself up and down, groaning so beautifully.  
  
“That feels so good,” Dean moaned.  
  
Castiel watched him, soaking in the tender look on Dean’s face, the soft furrow of his brow, and the gorgeous way his body worked above him.  
  
Dean’s eyes opened more fully, staring down at him. “You aren’t moving much.”  
  
Castiel grinned, his hips canting to meet Dean’s. “I’m watching.”  
  
Dean grinned slyly, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Watch then, sparky. I’ll just have aaaaalllll the fun,” he panted, working faster, Castiel pumping harder to keep up with him. He gripped Dean’s thighs, feeling them quiver beneath his hands. He panted softly as Dean worked harder and harder, gripping his wings tightly, slamming down on him. “Oh!” He craned back, his body fully upright as he gripped harder, his head thrown to one side. “Oh shit! Fuck! Cas!” He bit his lip, the soft furrow climbing into eagerness, edging closer. “Yeah! Yeah!” He slammed harder, head lolling as his thick, red cock swung untouched, his balls slapping with each pummel. “Fuck!” He cried, his voice climbing higher.  
  
Castiel watched, his eyes starting to glow.   
  
The glow must have caught Dean’s attention, because his eyes peeked open and he smirked between pants. “Like what you see?” He slammed down particularly hard, groaning loud again.  
  
“I love watching you enjoy yourself,” Castiel admitted. Particularly when no grace was used, and Dean had to work himself until he ground himself over the edge.  
  
Only now, as Dean’s eyes closed and he lost himself completely, Castiel thrusting upward to bring him the most satisfaction, did he fight to wait for Dean to climax.  
  
His eyes glowed harder as Dean’s body went taut, frozen as Castiel pumped upward, cum streaming from Dean with every arch of his back.   
  
Castiel waited, breathing heavily as Dean sagged, his hands gentling on his wings. Castiel’s hands finally left Dean’s thighs, running his own fingers over his chest, spreading Dean’s release with a low growl.  
  
Panting, hair tinged in sweat, Dean’s eyes opened, watching him with a growing grin. “Am I getting you all worked up yet, sparky?”  
  
Castiel matched Dean’s slow grin. He spread his wings abruptly, loving Dean’s gasp and subsequent clench around his impatient cock.  
  
“That nickname is insulting,” Castiel growled, knowing Dean loved his assertive streak in the bedroom. He flipped them over, putting Dean on his back, rocking into him at a quick pace. Dean braced himself the best he could. Castiel grinned at Dean struggling to hold on, already panting as he reached down to coax Dean to hardness again. Sufficiently hard, he felt himself brink on his own first orgasm. He let his own sensation flood into Dean, groaning loudly as the pair climaxed together. Ohhh, he was so good. His body, his soul, the squelch of cum as it leaked out around his softening length. And Dean was his.   
  
“All yours,” Dean panted.  
  
The notion swelled within him. “Yes, you are,” Castiel huffed, sliding out to lean over Dean and kiss him, bite at his plump lips, nip at his sweet smelling skin on his neck, nudge him to turn his head so he could lick the bitten skin and nip at his earlobe.  
  
“All mine,” Castiel rasped, turning him over to kiss along the back of his neck. Dean’s soul was pure and open. Free. Free for the taking. No more slick oil of demonic contract souring his taste. It was better than anything Castiel had ever tasted. Dean twisted beneath him, his hips lining up with his, his ass pressing needy and rough against his hardening length. “Oh, how I want you!” Castiel cried, gripping Dean’s sides, pushing his head down.  
  
“Take me!” Dean moaned. “Cas, please!”  
  
Wild with want, Castiel arched back, his wings flapping once to help pull him. He spread Dean’s cheeks, licking a stripe up his ass as Dean shook and groaned. With a greedy lick of his own lips, he speared his tongue, delving inside Dean deep and hard, getting the guttural cry from his lover that he craved.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean cried, legs spreading with his ass up and his head down. “So fucking good!”  
  
Castiel withdrew his tongue, licking him from balls, up past his hole, right up his back until he thrust his cock deep inside him, hearing Dean’s breath hitch. His wings flapped predatorily as he fucked into Dean hard and fast. He gathered his submissive lover into his arms, his mouth colliding with Dean’s neck. “I want to bite you,” he hissed, licking the skin with a hard drag of his tongue.  
  
Dean whined, hands gripping onto Castiel’s forearms for purchase. “You wanna mate me? That what you want?”  
  
“Yyyyesss,” Castiel growled, his world gone white and blue. He licked the place where his bite would go as his hips ground into Dean with a shallow slap, slap, slap.  
  
“Go on,” Dean gasped. “Do it! I want it!”  
  
He could feel Dean trembling, nearing another climax as he sped toward his own. “So good for me,” Castiel moaned, cherishing every bit of Dean. Every fiber and filament. Every memory and wish.  
  
Dean tipped his head further, gasping. “Come on, Cas! Take it!”  
  
Take it! Castiel was surging in grace, hedonistic in angelic urges. He licked Dean’s sweet skin again, fucking harder. His teeth settled onto the perfect place. The perfect taste. His perfect mate. He growled as his jaw tightened as Dean shuddered, coming and crying out. Castiel slammed into him again and again, his wings flapping hard once, twice, snapping as his lips replaced his teeth and flooded Dean deep and hot until his hips rocked slowly, undulating to a stop.  
  
Dean trembled in his arms. He licked the skin again, kissing it as his own head lay heavily against Dean’s. Dean reached up, feeling the unbroken skin. He gasped, his head turning so he could see one devastated eye. “Y-you didn’t bite me!” His voice shook and Castiel sighed, wrapping his wings around them, cocooning them into the feathery hold.  
  
“I did not.” His own legs shook with exhaustion.  
  
“W-why not?” Dean asked, heartbreak in his voice. “Am I still gross from the contract?”  
  
Castiel’s alertness grew. He turned Dean until their bodies faced each other, both up on their knees.  
  
“I did not bite you because I want to wait for our marriage night.”  
  
“What?” Dean’s voice cracked.  
  
Castiel kissed Dean’s reluctant lips, peering into him, pleading that Dean understood. “You were NEVER gross. Unavailable for a time. And now...I will wait until we have married before I take us yet another step closer together.”  
  
Dean pulled back, looking somewhat put-off.  
  
“You are already mine, love. And I am already yours.”  
  
“Yeah! But...” Dean frowned, his shoulders sinking.  
  
Castiel sunk back onto his heels. “I did not mean to upset you. I get very...predatory, when I’m with you. I want nothing more than to be connected to you in every way.” He kissed Dean again, hoping he could understand. “I want it to be special.”  
  
“It IS special!” Dean complained.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel assured him, taking his chin in his hand. “I would really like to wait.”  
  
Dean nodded, glancing away. “Okay, Cas.”  
  
“You are more than worth the wait, Dean. I want to take you so completely that in the morning, the last thing you will be thinking about is getting out of bed, let alone walking into a battle.”  
  
Dean gave him a considering look. “You’re just saying that to make me stop pouting.”  
  
Castiel chuckled, pulling Dean into his arms, turning onto his side, falling out of the plane and back into their chilly sheets. “I promise you, it’s true.”  
  
“Bragger,” Dean said softly, grinning a little as he kissed Castiel softly.   
  
All Castiel could do was hold him close and kiss him back. “I swear it to be true.”  
  
  
  
******************************************  
  
  
  
Now that Lawrence and Freeland were safe from Michael dropping troops off in any given town, the bunker was dispatching armies to Haven’s soil. After a meeting with Billie, Castiel and Gabriel began deploying soldiers all over the country.  
  
John led an army of human soldiers, flanked by Thursday troops, into Tree of Life. Their mission was to search out any hiding Legion of Sundays and Michael.  
  
Cesar and three armies from the Highlands were tasked to search out Sundays and Michael in The Garden all the way to Sunken Ties, assisted by one troop of Thursdays and one troop of Wednesdays.  
  
Tree of Knowledge had been thoroughly searched, moving all Sundays they found to the prison just outside its border.  
  
Gabriel and Sam were tasked with searching Tree of Thrones, backed by a troop from Lebanon, one from Sioux Falls, and another piecemealed from Freeland. The Mondays were also brought along to return and reclaim their home.  
  
Castiel and Dean led an attack and rescue in Gunnison, tasked with searching out traitors in the farm and liberating the humans there.  
  
All towns in Lawrence and Freeland were on high-alert and no ships sailed, except the SS Fizzle’s Folly, which held a small group (Rowena, Crowley, and Garth) to go to Britland to investigate their role in the war and bring all offenders, most notably, Bela Talbot, back to Lawrence to stand trial for war crimes.  
  
Haven was no longer the quiet, peaceful country it once had been. After being awakened from their lack of attention to the demise in their population and poorly treated human partners, reformation was sweeping the country.  
  
  
  
**************************************  
  
  
  
Charlie rounded another corner of a windowless building. The farm was a maze of thirty small, rectangular buildings, seven large buildings, and the entrance to the mine, all of it surrounded by wooden fencing. The smaller buildings were dorms for humans, separated by ages. The seven larger buildings were (to the best of their scouting; mostly done by Castiel popping in and out of them) five factories, one of which processed the coal that was mined, the others were processing food, clothes, linens, and shoes. One was for processing humans, breeding rooms, and health suites. The flat roofs of the dormitory buildings gave the Leviathan an advantage, as every building had two guards on top of it, armed with guns or bows to shoot any trespassers or anyone trying to escape.  
  
Charlie needed to get across the farm to the mine entrance to take out the six to ten Leviathan working the miners. When she reached the gate, she was to signal, then wait to get the attack signal when everyone was in place. She waited in the shadows along the building with Jo and ten volunteer soldiers from Freeland. Three of those ten were werewolves, prepared to wolf-out if needed.   
  
Jo waved her hand, getting herself and the last three Freelanders across the final road, to line up along the furthest dorm. Charlie watched the guards at the mine as two stood in front of the entrance, taking tags off the lot of humans that had come up from their shift, hanging their tags on a numbered pegboard, checking them out for the day. The people were dirty, covered in soot, soil, and sweat. They were tired; dragging their feet as the four other soldiers that emerged from the mine escorted them down the main road.  
  
Charlie and the rest of her group pressed tightly against the building, hoping none of them would turn around for any reason, spotting them all. Charlie held her breath, letting it out slow and steady as the group rounded a corner, moving out of sight. She peeked around the corner again, watching as the two guards busied themselves with sharing some sort of snack wrapped in a cloth. She squinted, straining to see the pegboard more clearly. There were eight empty pegs. She leaned back toward Jo.  
  
“There are eight still down in the mine. Probably two to four guards with them.”  
  
Jo quirked a grin. “Well, won’t they be surprised when they come topside.”  
  
Charlie grinned back at her fearless girlfriend. She leaned forward, nodding to the furthest woman in their line. The woman nodded back, turned, and shot a pebble over the fence with a slingshot, signaling they were in position.  
  
“And now we wait,” Jo muttered.  
  
Charlie peeked out onto the road again, gasping as she pulled herself out of sight quickly. “We need to move! Michael is here!”  
  
They inched around the building, pressing along the backside of it, in full view of the fence and a field with two people hoeing potatoes from the brownish-gray soil.  
  
“This is NOT going to work!” Jo hissed, several others agreeing.  
  
Charlie tossed Tasha, the Freeland girl at the end of the line with the slingshot, a glowing white stone. She quickly shot it over the fence, the group moving to the other side of the building, putting them in full view of the mine entrance.  
  
“Charlie?” Jo whispered, clutching her arm protectively as both guards looked up, seeing all of them.  
  
  
  
**************************************************  
  


Castiel gasped, seeing the glowing stone shoot over the fence. He gripped Dean’s shoulder tightly as he stood. “Michael is here!”  
  
Dean stood from their crouched position in the woods. They had been providing a distraction for Garth’s group, which had already taken out all the guards along the north fence. The attack had barely begun! He gripped Castiel’s hand, giving him a terrified look, swallowing it quickly.  
  
They knew this was coming. The fight. This could be the moment. The place in time.   
  
“I have to go!” Castiel said quickly, hugging Dean tightly, kissing him. “I love you.”  
  
“Love you too,” Dean said tightly, hating everything about letting him go. It was written all over his shadowed face in the night. “Hey, sparky,” Dean said, clearing his throat, tugging at Castiel’s heart, “burn that fucker down.”  
  
Castiel nodded. “I will.” He flew, unable to wait another second and hating to leave Dean at the same time. But he left with Dean’s eyes on him, his hand still gripping his coat.   
  
Castiel reached out, finding Gabriel, flying to him.   
  
He waved away a cloud of dust, finding himself standing in front of Michael’s palace. It looked substantially different than the last time he had stood out here with Dean, Sam, and Charlie. The pristine granite frontage had a huge crack that led up to the shifted and broken floors. Flames engulfed the roof and black smoke billowed from every window. The tattered, flapping remains of the Sunday banners lifted in the heat of the fire, singed on the ends as they burned.  
  
“Cassie!” Gabriel jumped, catching sight of him as he directed a group of nephilim from the main walk through to the road.  
  
“Cas!” Sam gasped, eyes going wide at his sudden appearance.  
  
“Michael is at the farm,” Castiel stated.  
  
Gabriel left the group immediately, Sam taking his hand as the pair approached him.  
  
“Let’s do this,” Gabriel smirked.  
  
Castiel took them, landing quietly in the woods, Dean turning to join them.  
  
Sam stepped away from Gabriel, standing beside Dean. “We’ll see you in there,” Sam said quietly, giving them both a nod.  
  
Dean gave Gabriel the same little nod before his eyes met Castiel’s holding briefly before Castiel flew them to the center of the farm.  
  
Angel blades slid from their sleeves and they gripped them with intent.  
  
“One way or another, brother,” Gabriel said quietly, watching as Michael stopped mid stride in his hasty attempt to hide out in one of the buildings at the farm.  
  
“One way or another,” Castiel swore, his eyes never leaving Michael. One way or another, Michael was dying today.  
  
Michael’s chin dipped down, his eyes blazing blue as his wings whipped out into ashy being.   
  
Gabriel’s whipped out as Castiel’s did the same, both widening their stance for what would come.   
  
“Suppose you two think you can stop me,” Michael said, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I suppose you think you can stop ALL this.”  
  
“I suppose we do,” Gabriel smirked.  
  
Castiel took no notice of Dean and the others moving into the farm, troops flooding in line by line, picking leviathan off the rooftops as they were fired upon.  
  
“Why do you pity them?” Michael scoffed, not dumb enough to look away from either of them for a second. “They make us WEAK!”  
  
“Humans are half of who we are,” Gabriel argued.  
  
“But you’re wrong!” Michael laughed, stepping forward. “Because half a nephilim breeding with a human does NOT make half a nephilim!”  
  
Castiel turned, waving a hand to disarm four Leviathan on roofs, then gripped his fist, holding them as werewolves jumped onto the roofs tearing them apart.  
  
“Don’t you see!” Michael went on, the Leviathan around him turning in every direction as the entire farm came under attack from all directions. “The humans are making us weak! They are destroying our grace!”  
  
“That’s the idea,” Gabriel nodded, shifting his sword. “And some day we won’t have grace anymore. And THAT’S the way things are supposed to be.”  
  
Michael shook his head, his wings stretching out. He shook his head again, stepping back. “You are wrong!” Michael hissed.  
  
Castiel regripped his sword, stepping forward. “You have lost your mind, Michael. And you have bastardized all that we stood for.”  
  
“Don’t even speak to me,” Michael growled, an angel blade sliding into his hand as his eyes flared.  
  
“I’ve heard more than enough of your filth,” Castiel snarled, feeling his grace swirl and thrum inside him. He could feel the heat radiating from Gabriel beside him.   
  
Michael stepped back suddenly, one hand raising.  
  
Before the light of grace could light his palm, Castiel threw a bulge of energy at Michael with full force, Gabriel punching the ground, making it quake and throw Michael off balance.  
  
“How dare you attack ME!” Michael raged, throwing another wave of energy, Castiel threw his wings up, deflecting. Gabriel threw the next wave as Castiel ran closer, sliding beneath the wave to lunge up at Michael with his blade.  
  
He parried it, dodging Gabriel’s next assault, Castiel pursuing him step for step. Gabriel’s wings flared as he neared their sword fight, throwing another wave, the ground erupting beneath Michael’s feet, knocking him down. Castiel lunged, his sword sinking into the ground as Michael rolled. Michael flailed, white surges of power shooting in other directions, making people dodge out of the way.  
  
Distracted, Castiel caught sight of Dean and Sam attacking an abettor of Michael’s, ruthlessly slaying Zachariah in the middle of the road. He whipped around, Gabriel and Michael disappearing mid fight. He regripped his sword, trying not to panic. They popped into their plane again, Gabriel gripping his wounded shoulder as Michael fell back, bleeding from his abdomen. Castiel grabbed Michael by the back of his collar, sinking his sword through Michael’s back to the hilt.   
  
“Nooo!” Michael roared, his sword falling to the ground.  
  
Gabriel stepped up to him, sinking his sword through Michael’s chest.  
  
“Today, and every day, you lose, Michael,” Castiel growled out through clenched teeth, feeling his body tremble and go weak.  
  
Gabriel left his sword in Michael’s chest as he ripped the sun emblem from his shirt. Michael choked, gasped, eyes wide and blinking as he stared at Gabriel.   
  
“You have been torn down from your post, Michael. You bring shame to your legion and all nephilim.”  
  
Castiel tossed Michael’s body to the ground.   
  
Gabriel dropped the sun emblem to the ground in front of Michael’s face as the nephilim’s body surged, grace lurching out in spits and sparks.  
  
Castiel snapped his fingers, the sun patch lighting on fire, burning to ash as Michael’s eyes lost their spark of craze until all life was gone from him.  
  
Gabriel stepped around him, hugging Castiel.  
  
“We did it!”  
  
Castiel hugged him tight. “We did!”  
  
Castiel held him at arm’s length, healing Gabriel’s wound.  
  
“You have ruined EVERYTHING!”  
  
Both nephilim turned, seeing Dick Roman several feet from them, staring down at Michael’s dead body. Castiel could feel the taint of Leviathan surrounding them.  
  
His eyes darted through the crowd of faces, some transforming to huge mouths as they pressed inward.   
  
Back to back, Gabriel and Castiel prepared to fight again, summoning their grace. Two Leviathan eyeing Gabriel suddenly shrieked, grabbing their own heads as Charlie held two fists in the air.  
  
“Back off bitches!” Charlie yelled, holding her fists tight as a spell strangled the two struggling Leviathan while she walked right into their midst.  
  
Turning, Castiel set his eyes on the Leviathan closest to him, that snarled and opened his giant mouth of razor-sharp teeth. Castiel’s jaw dropped as the monster’s head was neatly lopped off.  
  
“Hey there, friend,” Benny grinned.  
  
“Benny!” Castiel gasped.  
  
Benny turned, taking out another two as Dick Roman lunged for him and Gabriel. The pair separated, Dick snarling and snapping at both of them as he swayed one way and then the next.  
  
BANG!  
  
Castiel and Gabriel both jerked to the side, shocked at the gunshot so close to their ears.  
  
“Fuck yes!” Gabriel cheered.  
  
Castiel followed his gaze, seeing Sam standing there with the Colt smoking, a Winchester smirk spreading as the Leviathan writhed on the ground and then blew black goo over all of them.

Sam wiped a hand down his face, smiling anyway. “Hey, Benny,” he grinned.

“Sam. Good ta see ya,” Benny grinned, his giant machete resting on his shoulder easily as he wiped Leviathan blood from his face.  
  
Castiel wiped his face off with the sleeve of his jacket, bracing himself to fight another on-coming Leviathan, that dropped dead, its head rolling away as Dean lowered his machete with a grin.  
  
“Hey, Cas.”  
  
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel grinned.  
  
Vampires and werewolves tore the Leviathan apart, hunting out those that were trying to hold humans hostage and those trying to flee.  
  
Dean stumbled over a headless body, crashing into Castiel with a fierce hug. “You did it!” Dean gasped, squeezing him tight.  
  
“We did!” Castiel assured him, pulling back to kiss his dirty face. Dean laughed, eyes full of tears as he gripped Castiel’s hair, reassuring himself that they were both still alive. Cheers broke out around the farm, making Dean and Castiel turn, arms around each other’s shoulders to see the celebration around them.  
  
Benny weaved through the crowd, approaching the pair with a grin and a tip of his hat.  
  
“Good timing,” Dean grinned, moving to clasp forearms with his old friend.  
  
“Good to see you, brotha,” Benny grinned, nodding to Castiel. “Been hearin’ all sorts a stuff ‘bout you and yo family fightin’ Michael.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, stepping back to put his arm around Castiel. “Yeah. We put the bastard down.”  
  
Benny grinned with a warm nod. “Much obliged. Believe it or not...we been makin’ plans fo changes in Purgatory. Wanna make it a betta place.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean grinned, hugging Castiel to his side. “That’s great, Benny!”  
  
“See you ‘round soon,” Benny grinned.  
  
They watched as Benny whistled and twenty or so vampires zipped away, leaving only branches swaying as they disappeared.   
  
“The bitch is dead!” Charlie cheered, hugging Gabriel and Jo, cheering with the crowd.  
  
Castiel kissed Dean’s hand, holding him close as Sam slid the gun into place on his belt. Gabriel stepped over Michael’s ignored, dead body, planting a wallop of a kiss on Sam’s lips.  
  
Castiel let his head tip and lay heavily on Dean’s shoulder. “We got him. We did it.”  
  
“You did good,” Dean said quietly, kissing the top of his head. “I’m so proud of you.”  
  
“I am proud of all of us,” Castiel grinned, exhausted.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter tomorrow! I’m so excited to share it! I’m so sad it’s almost over! I’m relieved, I’m all over the place in my feels on this one!


	30. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!   
> And a timestamp on the end!

Chapter 30: Home

It had been three days since Michael was killed in Gunnison, Purgatory. Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Sam, Charlie, Jo, Ellen, and Bobby were in the farm, figuring out what to do with all the imprisoned humans. Raphael and all Tuesdays that had healing powers were brought in to try and undo the mind washing Michael had done and to heal all the wounds and damage the Leviathan had inflicted upon them.

Michael had been conducting experiments on monsters as well. According to his journals, Michael was trying to find more grace in supernatural beings, in order to strengthen nephilim some day. Scariest of all these monsters was a nephilim that was kept in a nursery alone on the top floor. 

Castiel and Gabriel stood in the hallway, staring at the open door to the baby’s room. They did that a lot. You could pass into the room. And all of them could leave the room. Except the baby. The entire room was spelled to encase the child. The boy had not actually done anything to classify himself as scary. But if what was written on his chart was true...he was terrifying.

“Cas,” Dean said, nudging his elbow.

Castiel tore his eyes from the door, blinking. “Hello, Dean. Who is this?”

Dean hefted the baby he’d been carrying around for an hour. “This is...” Dean looked down at the baby, who blinked up at him with wide eyes, his skin a smooth dark brown that reminded Dean of coffee and his hair stuck up in soft, wild curls. “His chart tag says BJ. And he kinda looked like Charlie ten minutes ago.”

Charlie giggled, putting an arm around Gabriel to give him a quick hug. “We passed a lady on the stairs that looked more like that. Guess BJ likes them. The babies only seem to change into looking like people they like.”

“A shapeshifter?” Castiel asked, smoothing his hand over the bouncy curls. “Michael used a lot of shapeshifters.”

“Yeah, well, baby BJ is from a shapeshifter mother and a nephilim father. So...that should be fun.”

The baby clutched the edge of Dean’s shirt, hardly able to sit up on his own. As he stared at Cas, his eyes turned from dark brown to blue, making both men grin.

“BJ?” Gabriel chuckled. “Please don’t send that kid into the world with a name that’s short for blowjob.”

“Right,” Dean snickered. He hefted the boy again. “Bobby.”

“Joe,” Charlie piped in. “He can be Bobby Joe or SHE can be Bobbi Jo!”

Dean shook his head. “Whatever. Bobby Joe it is.” He switched the baby to his other arm, not missing the warm little grin Castiel gave him. “So, what’s with your kid?”

Gabriel and Castiel turned to look at the door. Both of them sighed. “The documents have got be wrong,” Gabriel insisted.

“But Michael was no liar. Deceiver, yes. A madman, for sure,” Castiel said quietly. “But he was no liar.”

“So...” Dean waited.

“So,” Gabriel went on, “The file on this little guy says Michael’s predecessor didn’t just die of old age. He sacrificed himself to dive into the ocean and retrieve enough of Lucifer to create...this.”

Dean stepped up to the door, staring into the dark room. In the corner, two golden eyes glowed from the shadowed crib. “And his name?”

“Jack,” Castiel said. “It seems Michael took enough interest in this one to give him a name instead of just letters.”

A glint of something, possibly recognition, flickered in the baby’s golden eyes. Dean stepped away from the door, turning to the sprites. “Soooo...what are we doing with him?”

“Saving him,” Castiel answered at the same time Gabriel said “Killing him.”

“Ooookay,” Dean nodded, “well, Sam needs help. He’s knee deep in four-year-olds and is begging for Gabe to come help him.”

“Cassie can go,” Gabriel offered.

Cas turned to him with an incredulous stare. He leaned in. “So, you can kill him? No,” he hissed under his breath, standing up tall again and squaring his shoulders for effect.

“HELLLOOOO!” Gabriel pointed to the door. “LUCIFER!” He whispered loudly.

“He’s got a point,” Dean agreed. “Most dangerous angel this world has seen and Michael, also major trouble, brings back a piece of him? Cas...this is bad.”

“He is a child!” Castiel yelled. 

Bobby Joe whimpered. “This,” Dean quickly comforted the frequent crier, “is a child, Cas. That!” He nodded toward Jack’s door, “That is a disaster.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Gabriel smirked. “I’ll just go party like a toddler while you two co-parent.”

They watched as Gabe left, taking Bobby Joe with him. 

“Charlie,” Castiel asked, watching the door with a furrowed brow. “Could you...bind his powers. Keep him more human than angel?”

Charlie sighed. “Possibly. I’ll have to ask my grandmother.”

“Would you mind doing that?” Castiel said eagerly.

“Sure!”

Castiel held up his hand, fingers poised to snap.

“Oh! Like, now?” Charlie blanched. “Can you send Jo too?” She shouted, disappearing as Castiel snapped.

“Dude,” Dean scolded him.

Castiel frowned, snapping again.

“What did you just do?”

“I sent Jo to Rowena’s.”

Dean sighed. “You gotta talk to people, Cas! Quit snapping people here and there with no warning! Jeez. You know it’s bad if I have to give tips on communicating better.”

Casitel sighed, his shoulders sinking. “I am sorry. I will...do better.”

“Come on,” Dean took Cas’ hand. “Jack isn’t going anywhere. Not until someone figures that spell out.”

He led Castiel down the hall and down the stairs. “Where are you taking me?” Castiel asked grumpily.

Dean smirked back at him. “I’m reminding you why we are here.”

“We are here to clean up Michael’s mess.”

Dean opened a nursery door, one of many rooms like this, that each held ten babies. This entire floor was Michael’s experiments. The other floors were all human babies, with up to forty to a room. 

He went inside quietly as two nephilim were busy changing diapers and caring for them. Castiel glanced around at the cribs, swallowing hard. These infants were almost a year old, some crawling, others standing, all of them eerily quiet.

“Why are they so quiet?” Castiel asked, staring at them as he turned, looking at each in turn.

“They have grown up with little interaction, Your Highness,” one of the nephilim explained, bowing to him. “But they are learning quickly!”

“Give us the room, would you?” Dean asked, picking up the nearest child, a curious little girl in a gray gown.

“Yes, sir,” the woman nodded, treating him like some sort of leader, like all the nephilim did since Castiel and Gabriel’s victory over Michael. Or maybe since he died and was brought back. Whatever it was, he did his best to let the ‘sirs’ roll off his back, but stopped them when they attempted to bow. 

“Have dinner in peace or take a nap,” Dean offered, smiling at the pair of women.

“Thank you, sir,” they both sighed, leaving.

Castiel paced along the cribs, stopping as a little boy lifted his hands to Castiel with begging brown eyes. Castiel swallowed hard, picking the child up, looking at him as much as the boy looked at Castiel. “Tomorrow the nephilim and people of Freeland are coming to give all the children homes.” The little boy laid his head on Cas’ shoulder, gripping his shirt. “We have many that have volunteered.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, covering a sleeping child to keep the chill away. He put the first child he picked up, back into her crib, moving to another crib, picking up one that stood sucking her thumb. “Garth said all the werewolf ones are welcome in New Harmony.” He grinned at the little girl in his arms, watching her grin back at him slowly. “That means you, doesn’t it, little wolf?” The girl grinned around her thumb at him. Dean watched Cas as he moved to sit in a rocking chair by the fireplace. “Sounds like no one from Lawrence volunteered.”

Castiel nodded, settling the little boy onto his lap, pulling a toy horse from across the room to let him play with. “Yes. Your father said the vote on whether supernatural people will be allowed in Lawrence takes place tomorrow. He’s quite sure all beings that eat, or would eat, humans, will not be allowed. And witches and nephilim are still uncertain.”

“I guess you can’t blame them for wanting to feel safe. But that kinda puts us on the chopping block, doesn’t it?”

Cas gave him a sad smile. “What if they deny my kind entry?”

Dean sighed, putting the little girl into her crib as a boy in the far corner started to cry. “I don’t know. I kinda liked it in Freeland. The people there seem so much more accepting. And if Haven decides to be only nephilim, I guess you won’t be going back there.”

“Haven has always been open to humans. As open as it could be. And now that Sunken Ties is manned with reliable nephilim, any entering at will, will be welcomed. And these special nephilim hybrids are already being welcomed as well. Haven has much to atone for. I am glad to see that my people are standing up and taking action for Michael’s...work.”

Dean picked up the boy, glancing at his chart. Part witch, part nephilim. He patted his back, rocking him as he walked over to the fireplace, taking the other rocking chair. “These kids are going to need some kind of monitoring as they grow up. Who knows what they actually are. Could be fifty more kids in here like Jack and we just don’t know it yet.”

Castiel frowned at the fire. “Jack will need a special home. He has been poorly handled.”

“Or he’s just rabid. Lucifer, Cas? That kid could be the next apocalypse. I’m not sure how many apocalypses a planet can handle. Would you cut up one of those pears for me?”

Castiel glanced at a large fruit bowl, using his grace to lift a pear, put it in a small bowl and cut into small bites, then float it over to Dean. Dean took it, offering JT the fruit, which he picked up with his chubby hands and began to eat.

“We could stay here and raise them all together,” Castiel mused, picking up the horse the little boy dropped on the floor, handing it back to him.

“There is no way I’m living in Purgatory.”

Castiel nodded. “There are teams of nephilim out as we speak that are improving the water, the soil, and the forests.”

“I know,” Dean sighed again, eating a bite of pear, making the little boy grin. “It’s just so...wild here. And dangerous. Benny doesn’t have every group of vampires under control. Only some. And the kitsune and...it’s not the kind of place I would want to raise kids. A lot of demons died in the war. But there are still plenty out there.” He glanced at Cas again, finding the man smiling at him.

“Guess we could just adopt some instead of going through either of us having one,” Castiel said back quietly.

Dean nodded. “We could. Or...we could do both.”

Castiel grinned. “Some of the humans here have claimed some of the children as their own. And...Jack IS going to be a special case.”

Dean groaned. “You guys haven’t even figured out if he’s gonna be even KIND OF human! He looks...feral!”

Castiel rocked, picking the horse up again as the boy in his lap giggled happily. “I want to help him. And so far all he does is eat baby food, dirty his diaper, and...well, his eyes do glow.”

“Yeah.”

“But so do mine.”

Dean closed his eyes. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Cas. 

Including this.

“Fine. But if he goes bad...”

“He’s a child. We will teach him to be good! Teach him to love! He will be surrounded with family!” Cas said hopefully. “He does seem to like being held.”

“The shit you drag me into,” Dean sighed.

Castiel stood. “Is that a yes? Can we...save him?”

Dean stared up at his fiancé. His love. His partner in everything. “Yes, Cas. We’ll...figure it out.” He chuckled into the kiss Cas laid on him, that had the babies jostling and squealing with laughter.

“You won’t regret it, Dean! He’s going to be okay. We will help him understand that he is not just his father’s genes. He will be OUR son!”

Well shit.

Dean found himself grinning ridiculously. Our son. He was going to have a family of his own. And life was bound to be interesting raising a child like that. And if the kid had any kind of hope for having a normal life, it would be with Cas or Gabriel. And he would love the little boy like he was his own. He already knew it. He would love any of these children, no matter what future beheld them. “Guess we need a house. Kinda helps finish the ‘taking him home’ part.”

Castiel’s face lit up. “Yes! Yes, we do!”

“And...maybe a trip to Haven first.”

Castiel’s elation quickly dipped. “Haven? Why?”

“We need to find out about the you turning into a cat thing.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, staring at the fire, embarrassment radiating off of him. “I already spoke to Missouri about it. And Rowena. The library isn’t likely to have anything about it anyway. It’s a...unique situation.”

“Oh,” Dean said, knowing Cas would go on if he waited long enough.

Cas turned toward him, his eyes meeting his, then dipping to the floor. “Apparently I am able to assume cat form as a means of escape. Rowena suspects that my holding the form for so long has given my grace an...outlet of sorts, to escape when I am drained. I doubt it will happen again, now that I understand why it was happening.”

Dean gave him a soft grin. “But if you need to, you can do it?”

“Apparently,” Cas sighed.

“I’ll keep my flannel shirts handy to carry you around in.”

Castiel scoffed. “It is ridiculous.”

Dean smirked. “It’s adorable. And if you need held, you know all you gotta do is think it loud enough and I am all yours.”

Cas met his eyes more steadily. “I do not intend to do that.”

“Well, I’m always here for you, Cas. No matter what shape you’re in.”

“I know,” Cas grinned, waves of love flooding Dean.

“I love you too, Thursday.”

Cas gave him a broken grin. Fighting Michael had left both Cas and Gabe more scarred than even their wings showed. 

“This is how I grew up,” Cas said, staring at the fire. “In a building. In a nursery with several others. We were well attended to, but we were not loved. Not like those that grow up with good families.”

Dean watched Cas with a pang of heartache. The war had left Cas tired. His people had left him wanting. Dean swore to the veil that he would hold Cas and always make sure he knew he was safe and loved. He grinned to himself. He had forever to do this. Tonight, tomorrow, ten years from now, all the way to the veil and forever. It was no wonder the man craved love and security.

“Well, Sam wants to go to that freaking library to dig up something on his and Gabe’s bond and the whole Charlie thing. And I guess we can...look for a house.”

Castiel pulled Dean to his feet, JT’s pears spilling to the floor. “I only want to live where we can be happy, Dean. Free of judgement. I...I...”

Dean moved the boy to his other hip, concerned about how worried Cas looked. “You what?”

His passion seemed stopped-up. He seemed afraid to say what he was thinking or feeling. He could feel the turmoil through his bond. “Just...say whatever is in that beautiful head of yours, Cas.” He reached out, running a crooked finger under his jaw. “You couldn’t possibly scare me.”

The little boy looked up at Cas, his hand landing on Cas’ chin as he stared at his mouth in curiosity.

“I would like to live in Freeland. A place where our children will be accepted. Where they will learn to live with all peoples in harmony, yet not have to fear for their life.”

Dean nodded. “Sam pretty much said the same thing.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He likes New Harmony. Not really sure I wanna live right there where I died. But...somewhere there might be nice.”

“The towns there have been ravaged. They are still chasing demons out.”

Dean nodded again. “Sounds like my kinda place.”

Castiel laughed weakly. “They certainly could use our help. And our numbers.”

Dean kissed him chastely. “Freeland, it is.”

“What about the rest of your family?” Cas asked.

“They can visit. We can go visit.”

“What about living in Raton, raising horses?”

Dean shrugged. “Freeland needs horses too. Maybe we start our own horse ranch.”

Castiel grinned. “A horse ranch. With a boot shop.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe just the horses. I’m pretty sure Jack will keep us more than busy. Plus...ya know...our own kids. I MIGHT have been a handful when I was young. And you, huh!” Dean laughed. “We’re gonna be so tired!”

****************************************

Sam stretched, pushing himself away from the table that was piled high with books. “I know Dean and Cas are talking about Freeland, but I could live in this library.”

“You should!” Metatron said excitedly. “And you should seriously consider working with one of our people to write books about your history! We have so much missing information!”

Sam nodded. He could write a book. “I could write one about the war with Michael. The humans perspective, ya know?”

“Yes! An autobiography of Sam Winchester, the Colt Slinger! They’re already writing songs about you, ya know!”

Sam blushed, blowing out a breath. “I certainly didn’t feel like a gun-slinging hero. I just happened to be in the right places at the right times with a very powerful gun.”

They both looked as Gabriel came through the door, his abettors and several other mages followed him. The sprite was never alone anymore, it seemed. 

“The people miss you, Gabriel,” one of his abettors was saying. “They refuse to celebrate until you return!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, briefly catching Sam’s. “So, set up a party. A big one,” Gabriel sighed. “And I’ll be there.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” The abettor bowed, trotting from the room with two more abettors joining him.

Sam watched him send another abettor to bring them wine and snacks, then asked the rest to step outside.

Metatron handed Gabriel a book, pointing to a passage as he left the room, pulling the door shut.

Sam tried to fight down the rise in thrill he got when Gabriel gave all his attention to only him. It was overwhelming at times and made Sam fight to breathe normally. And just as quickly as he had arrived with so many people, it was just the two of them now.

Gabriel sighed, running his hands back through his hair before both arms dropped to the table, sliding the books away. Sam sat up a bit straighter, waiting for Gabriel to speak.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Sam blushed, looking down at the book in front of him. “Hi.”

“So...what did you find out?”

Sam, realizing Gabriel didn’t want to read the facts for himself, but rather be given a summary by him, grinned proudly. Gabriel trusted him. Even with something as important as this.

“Okay, so, get this.” He slid the book he had been staring at, pointing to a picture. “According to the lore, angels bonded with humans during mating. They bit them right when -“

“I know how that one works,” Gabriel grinned, looking up at him happily.

“Right,” Sam blushed. “Well, they marked humans too. But it wasn’t out of loyalty. It was literally a brand, marking them as untouchable to other angels. The loyalty on the humans was just a side product. But it says it’s another form of a bond, which led me to this.” He pointed to the diagram in the book.

“Did anyone ever tell you, you’re adorable when you get all nerdy?”

Sam blushed, biting a laugh. “There are all kinds of ways to bond. And you can have, or angels could anyway, have more than one kind of bond at the same time.”

Gabriel stood up, pushing the book to the side as he took its place, sitting on the table in Sam’s space, moving one leg around him so Sam was now between his knees.

“So, my bond with Charlie?” Gabriel asked, his eyes glowing softly as he ran one hand down Sam’s shoulder and arm.

“It’s, it’s from your grace reaching out to her. It’s, uh, just...like you two are close. Like siblings.”

Gabriel nodded, tugging at the tie closure on Sam’s shirt. “And our bond?”

Sam was having a hard time concentrating as Gabriel’s fingers slid along his chest and Sam’s hands gripped his knees, pressing them into his own hips, loving how that felt. “Our bond is,” he cleared his throat as Gabriel stretched up tall, kissing the exposed skin of his chest. “It’s, uh, the s-same as Charlie’s. You were healing and your grace -“

“My grace,” Gabriel cut him off, kissing his chest again as his hands slid down Sam’s sides, “wrapped around your soul like a trumpet vine, soaking in your strength.” His hands slid under Sam’s shirt and up his bare sides, making Sam gasp. He tipped his head back, peering into Sam’s eyes steadily. “I took strength from your soul just by touching it.”

“You touched it,” Sam whispered, completely enraptured by Gabriel’s touch.

“I left an imprint on your soul. You left one on mine. And my grace tied the two together forever.”

“You already knew?” Sam asked, bewildered.

Gabriel grinned. “Pretty much. I wanted to check the having more than one bond at a time thing. But, yeah. I already knew.”

“So, our bond is the same as the one you have with Charlie.”

“Right,” Gabriel nodded with a little grin.

“But...you don’t...”

“What?” Gabriel grinned harder. “Dream about her at night?” He slid both hands up over Sam’s chest, making his breath hitch. “Think about her while I’m supposed to be listening to my fellow mages?” 

“You think about me?” Sam huffed, blood pumping harder and harder as he watched Gabriel devour him with his eyes.

“All the fucking time.”

“So...even though Charlie and I have the same kind of bond -“

“For now,” Gabriel smirked.

“For now,” Sam squinted in question. “You think it will change? The lore said it does not change over time or fade. Even when one of the bonded pair dies, the link is still there.”

“Because,” Gabriel said softly, pulling Sam in for a slow kiss. “When I bite you, your bond will be stronger than hers.”

Sam’s mouth hung open as he stared into Gabriel’s unwavering eyes. “Gabe...”

Gabriel pulled back, smirking. “You gonna deny me?” He snapped his fingers, every surface of the table and floor covered in cups of coffee, making Sam laugh as he stared around. “I’m crazy about you, kid.”

Sam blushed as Gabriel waved and the coffee all disappeared, the surfaces now covering in drawings that popped up, one after another, all of Sam. “What are these?” Sam asked, picking one up. Looking at him mid battle with a Leviathan. 

“My memories.”

“Wow,” Sam put the picture down, picking one up of a party. People dancing and laughing and Gabriel wearing a tolerant grin. “What’s this?”

“How I used to feel. How I feel when I think about returning to Haven without you.”

Sam put the picture down, staring at him. “I’m just...a regular guy!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You’re Sam fucking Winchester. Baddest human in the entire war. Killed Azazel, Alastair, AND Dick Roman. They’re writing songs about you, Sam!”

“I had a really good gun,” Sam shrugged, still not believing how someone like Gabriel could find him so special.

“And a really good heart, Sam. Hey, I’m all about having a good time. I’m well known for my parties.” He glanced down at the picture before looking back at Sam. “But I feel good when I’m with you. Like...change the world good.”

Sam blinked, grinned, and kissed Gabe like he wanted to. He felt Gabriel in a whole new light. He was aware of how fragile he felt inside. How scared.

Sam pulled back. “What are you scared of?” He whispered. “I can feel it.” He cupped Gabriel’s face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over Gabriel’s cheeks.

Gabriel shook his head, trying to deny it with a grin that quickly fizzled. “I’m scared of everything.”

Sam stared at him, feeling the power of confession behind the whispered words. He hugged Gabriel tight to him, kissing the top of his head. “Take me to your wings.”

Gabriel pulled them, his head tucked down into Sam’s chest as his wings materialized, wrapping around Sam to hug him in a second layer.

“Why are you scared?” Sam asked quietly.

Pictures fluttered around them. Michael torturing him. Gabriel looking worried but Sam wasn’t sure why. Dead bodies from battle. Angry mages. Michael. His wings burning. So many pictures of flames. Gabriel standing on a mountain alone. Pictures of him when he was young. More torture from Michael. The scene at the park when Dean died. Burning wings. On and on the pages fluttered down around him like drizzling rain.

“Let me feel you,” Sam said, looking Gabe in the eyes. “Dean told me you can show me how you feel.”

Gabriel shook his head no.

Sam stroked his wings, seeing Gabriel struggle to tell him no, but struggle harder to keep his emotions inside.

“I can take it,” Sam whispered, kissing his cheek.

Frowning, Gabriel shifted slightly and Sam was shocked by a torrent of hatred, disgust, confusion, and pain. He fought to make more sense of the feelings. Michael’s disgust. Michael’s hate. Gabriel’s confusion and fear from him and all the pain of the chains, Michael stealing his grace, his wings burning.

Sam gasped, staggering back, blinking hard as the wave was suddenly cut off like a doused flame.

“Gabriel!” Sam gasped, hugging him again. “I’m so sorry!”

“Why did he hate me so much?” Gabriel asked.

“He hated anyone that wasn’t him!” Sam said in a rush. “He was insane! He hated your sanity! He probably hated how right you were! How loved you are!”

Gabriel hugged him close. “You have no fear. Like...none. It feels so good,” Gabriel admitted quietly.

Sam hugged him tight, stroking his wings the best he could. “I’m not afraid of anything at the moment. I have my family. I have you, safe. Life is just starting for us, Gabe. We can be whatever we want! If you want to stay Mage of Monday, then you will! And I will be right here, if you’ll have me. And if you want to move to Freeland with Cas and Dean, we’ll do that. I just...I know nothing can be as bad as it was. And I know I would take down anything to know you feel safe.”

Gabriel choked a short laugh. “See. No fear.”

“I’ve been afraid plenty of times.” He pulled Gabriel to look at him again. “We survived a war. We won. We get to live how we want now. And I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have found you in the midst of all this.”

Gabriel kissed him hard. His bravado made more sense now. He kept a powerful position in check, portraying effortless leadership. But Sam knew the real fears Gabriel fought. The memories of battle. The burning. The shock of a brother turning on you.

“I’m gonna give you ten good pages of memories for every bad one you have,” Sam swore, kissing him deeper, needing to feel all of him.

“Yeah?” Gabe managed between kisses. “Don’t suppose you wanna make one right now, do ya?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Sam said, kissing him harder.

Gabriel clutched him tightly, he snapped his fingers, making their clothes disappear. Sam lifted him, turning to put Gabe on his back on the floor, kissing him harder as their bodies came together.

“Sam,” Gabriel whispered, opening his grace as Sam was hit with feelings of good, please, right, more, now, surrender.

Sam did all he could to give back his feelings, hoping Gabe felt them. By the way he gasped, his eyes filling with tears, he was pretty sure Gabe got his message. He pushed his thoughts forward again. Happy, protection, safe, mine - with me, pride, love, care, mine - possessive.

Gabe nodded, kissing him as Sam slid deep inside, listening as Gabe’s mind chirped readyreadynowready.

“Heard sex with nephilim is pretty amazing,” Sam grinned, loving the way a little teasing pulled Gabe back to a merrier mood.

“You let me know. When I’m done with you.”

Sam laughed, choking as a wave of lust hit him hard. He gasped, feeling Gabe squeeze him and groaned like a lion as he came sudden and fast. He gasped, blinking down at Gabe. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -“

Gabe grinned wickedly as Sam panted, staring down at their joined groins. “I’m hard again!”

“Oh yeah,” Gabe grinned. “So keep going there, stud boy.”

“Shit!” Sam muttered, moving slowly until he ramped up to a quick speed. He took enough time to stroke his feathers, loving all the white feathers mixed in with his black ones. They only reminded him of their bond. Being there when the new, white feathers were created.

“I want to bond,” Sam said abruptly, his hips freezing as he stared down at Gabe. “I don’t want to wait. There will never be another you. And I know that’s all I could possibly search for, Gabe. I want to know every bit of you.”

Gabriel’s grin sobered. “You can’t take back a bond, Sam. It’s...forever. Like...FOREVER.”

“I know,” Sam grinned, searching Gabe’s golden brown eyes. “There could never be anyone else, Gabe. Not now. Not ever. We’re already bonded.” He licked his lips as the thought grew inside him like a warm ray of sunshine. “I want it.”

“You’re so young, Sam,” Gabe frowned.

Sam laughed. “It doesn’t matter! I knew I would know! And I do! I know you are mine.”

Gabriel looked like he was torn between tears, eagerness, and wanting to argue.

Sam rocked his hips again. “You said I make you feel good. Safe. Like a better person.”

“I did,” Gabe whispered.

“I’m gonna fill a million pages with happy memories, Gabe.” He sat up, pulling Gabe up to straddle his lap, his wings stretching out, fluffed and twice their normal thickness with alertness and lust. “A million happy memories, Gabe.”

Gabriel kissed him hard, his body going taut with energy as he rode Sam’s cock with new purpose. “You really want this?”

“I do!” Sam swore, tears edging his eyes. “So, so bad.”

Gabriel kissed him again, harder. Sam held him tight enough to feel him, but free enough to let him move. Gabriel’s wings lifted in a possessive arch, Gabriel’s eyes glowing as he sat back, posting faster and faster, gripping Sam’s shoulders tight.

“Gabe!” Sam watched him, feeling another rush of lust that gripped him. “I’m -“

“I know,” Gabriel growled, thrusting harder and harder. “It’s so fucking good!”

Sam gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as Gabriel’s eyes shone so bright he couldn’t look straight at him. He felt his wings wrap suddenly around him, making him cry out as he came. He gasped again as wet heat spread up his chest as Gabriel came. And then his entire being split into shattering awe as he felt Gabriel bite down on the slope of his neck. Sam was sure the universe felt the shock wave of lust that wrapped and coiled and thrummed in pulsating ecstasy as they held each other and rocked slowly. Slowly easing from the high, they held on to each other as Gabriel released the bite, healing him.

Sam cradled him in his lap, kissing him everywhere he could reach. “I love you,” he kept whispering.

“I love you too,” Gabriel whispered back when he could put two words together. His wings drooped, exhausted and spent. 

“Take us to your place,” Sam whispered, kissing his lips with a grin. “I think we need a bed.”

Gabriel sat back, grinning at Sam. “Your wish is my command.”

********************************************

Dean rounded the corner of the main road in Tree of Knowledge at a trot. Impala whinnied as Dean smiled, spotting Cas sitting on a bench in front of the library. Jack was sitting in a patch of wildflowers watching a dragonfly move from flower to flower. He slowed to a walk as Cas stood up, grinning at their approach.

“Hello, Dean!”

“Hey there!” He dismounted, kissing him. The pair laughing as Impala nudged Dean into Cas even harder.

“Hello to you too, beautiful girl,” Cas laughed, rubbing her muzzle fondly. He watched for a moment before turning to Dean. “She still thinks it strange here and prefers Freeland.”

“Me too,” Dean said, patting her. “We’ll be home soon.”

Jack reached up, Dean squatting to pick him up, kissing his full, round cheek. “Hey there, baby boy. You playin’ with the bugs?”

Jack giggled, so much happier since Rowena and Charlie freed him from the spelled nursery. He was thriving with his new freedom and constant care. Rowena and Charlie had also bound his powers for the time being. Neither of them could assure he or Cas how long the bind would hold. But that was an adventure for another day that surely would come.

Today they were getting married. And their son was just a happy baby. They agreed to take every simple moment and cherish them until things inevitably grew more complicated.

“He ate some banana a little while ago and seemed to enjoy it very much,” Cas said, picking up a bag to sling over his shoulder.

“Nice,” Dean grinned, smiling down at the sandy-hair flopping in the breeze.

“Sam and Gabriel are already in Farmington Hills. Apparently they are decorating.” Cas smiled, but his eyes twinkled with a mixture of humor and trepidation.

“Oh boy,” Dean sighed. “This is gonna be friggin’ huge, isn’t it?”

“According to Gabriel, it is not every day that Mage of Days marries Dean the Defier.”

Dean groaned at the titles. “Why do people gotta give us names?”

“Well, you defied death. It was pretty amazing.”

Dean laughed. “I know.” He took Cas’ hand, kissing it. “Guess it was too much to ask for a small, family-only ceremony.” 

“Apparently,” Cas sighed. “But Sam has assured me that he and Gabe are ready to take care of Jack for a few days while we...enjoy our new bond.”

Dean grinned, kissing Cas. “Yeah. I’ve waited long enough.”

At the last meeting of the mages, it was decided unanimously that Sunday would not be re-instated as a legion. Half of the legion was in prison. The other half, not wanting anything to do with Michael’s teachings, were moving into the legion of their choosing. As for Castiel, he was given a new title as Mage of Days. His role was to represent the peoples of Purgatory, Freeland, and Lawrence. From now on, mage meetings were for the seven mages, including Castiel. The high council meetings were for the mages and all leaders, one from each faction of monsters. The first council meeting was scheduled for end of summer in Chicago, Freeland. The Treaty of the Peoples was to be renegotiated. For now, ports of travel were closed to all. The only travel permitted between countries was flight by Gabriel or Castiel. Bela Talbot and six others from Britland stood trial and now served a ten year sentence of imprisonment in Haven. 

“We should go. I have much to show you.” Cas grinned excitedly. 

“I’m ready when you are,” Dean grinned. He could hardly wait for this day to come. Not only were they getting married, they were taking their final steps in their bond. It had been increasingly hard to wait. The fact that Sam and Gabe had already bonded, almost pushed Dean over the edge to begging. But Cas had been insistent that they wait. He wanted it to be special. Dean just fucking wanted it. If he had to look at the bite scar on his brother one more time, he might have to resign to dirtier tactics.

Yeah. He was about to start begging. Literally.

“Are you ready to go home?” Castiel asked, pride and love pressing into Dean’s system.

“I am so freaking ready,” Dean sighed. It felt like his life had been never-ending unrest since the night Cas had shown up in the rain, trying to pass along Gabriel’s message to his dad. He was tired. Weary. Ready for a room that was his. A bed that was theirs. A home of his own.

“I have built us the most beautiful home, Dean. And I know we will have many happy days there together.”

“I’m sold!” Dean laughed. “It could be four wooden posts with a tin roof and I’d be in. Anything better than that, and I’m over the moon.”

Castiel grinned. “Let’s go home.”

******************************************************

Castiel flew them to Farmington Hills. It was a lovely town a days ride from New Harmony, set in the rolling, green hills of northern Freeland. Another days ride north and they could walk along the beaches. Four days ride west and they could be at the capital, Chicago, where they could find anything they could think of. Two days ride south from New Harmony was a quaint little town called Lily Dale, where many of the town’s people were psychic. They had completely dodged the ravages of war by foreseeing it coming and taking precautions that the rest of the country had ignored.

Farmington Hills was mostly destroyed by war. Many of the families had lost members and lands. Rowena had asked Charlie if she would take up the post as High Witch there, knowing the town needed a strong leader. She had accepted, Jo going with her. They had also taken a pair of witch/nephilim twins from the farm, starting their own family. 

With Jo settling down, Ellen came with her. With Ellen, came Bobby. And with Bobby and Charlie in one place, it was a perfect fit for Dean, Cas, Gabe, and Sam to settle with them. The original townspeople were a mixture of fairy, skinwalkers, werewolves, and shapeshifters. Seven of the experimental children, plus Charlie and Jo’s twins, and Jack, gave them a unique group of children that the entire town was eager to watch grow up. They had visited Farmington Hills frequently in the past few weeks. Cas and Dean had taken a set of rooms in the inn that Ellen and Jo started in town. The previous owners had not made it through the war and Gabriel was quite willing to help them make a lot of repairs to have it up and running in a few days.

Gabriel had already built a fine stone house along a road heading out of town past Ellen’s Roadhouse Inn, past Bobby’s wagon repair shop, and past Charlie and Jo’s house. It was a decadent little (according to Gabriel) mansion (according to Sam) that frankly looked like an oasis of Haven in comparison to the rest of the town. It was beautiful, with willow trees flowering along the long path that led to the white granite, three story home. 

Half an hour by horse walk, Castiel had chosen a long stretch of rocky ground that he reformed into acres of woods and pastures, fenced by rock walls, perfect for a future horse farm.

That much, Dean had seen. What he had not yet seen, was the house that he and Gabriel built. It was two stories with big, spacious rooms. The stables were bigger than the house with stalls fit for Impala, with plenty of her input in the design. Great oaks and blooming cherry trees peppered the landscape.

Per Gabriel’s directions, Castiel landed in the town’s square. He quickly realized the folly of listening to his beloved brother, when they were greeted with a street full of people, music playing, and cheers of welcome.

“Cas...” Dean muttered.

“My apologies. Gabriel arranged this.”

“Of course he did,” Dean said tightly, forcing a grin and waving at the crowd.

“Dean!”

Dean’s eyes moved through the cheering crowd until he spotted Adam perched on a wall, beside their dad and Kate. He waved Adam over, handing Jack to Cas as he scooped his little brother up into a hug.

“Look at all the people!” Adam yelled.

“I see,” Dean said sarcastically.

“They’re here to see you and Thursday get married!” Adam cheered.

“You ready to be my best man?” Dean asked. 

“No! That’s Sam!”

“He’s my OTHER best man!” Dean laughed. 

“There’s dad! And there’s Uncle Bobby!”

Dean waved, knowing both men loved this crowd as much as he did. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s at the house! And Challenger’s in trouble. Cause he bit dad’s ass when he wasn’t lookin’.”

“Butt,” Dean laughed. “Quit using grown up words.”

“Dad says Gabriel told Challenger to bite him, but he’s not sayin’ nothin’ cause he’s on his best behavior,” Adam added. “And I think I’m old enough to use grown up words.”

Dean exchanged a grin and a laugh with Cas. “First, no. You can’t. Cause if you use grown up words, then Jack will start using them. We can’t have that.”

Castiel backed Dean up on that one, giving Adam a knowing nod, which Adam buttoned an imaginary button over his lips for.

“And second, Gabriel wouldn’t do that. Challenger is a dick.”

Adam resisted saying anything back to Dean, but did not look convinced.

People cheered them all the way to Ellen’s Inn, where she waited with Charlie, Jo, and Sam.

Dean hugged them all. “Am I kicking your ass or Gabe’s for this parade?” Dean shouted.

“Gabriel,” all of them answered.

“He’s waiting at the house,” Sam added. “Hopefully he isn’t adding on anything crazy like an frozen pond for ice skating or a panda bear petting zoo.”

“I explicitly said no to both,” Castiel sighed, getting an incredulous look from Dean.

“Okay. I seriously wasn’t even nervous until right the fuck now,” Dean groaned.

“It’ll be fun!” Sam laughed.

“What’s a panda bear?” Adam asked.

Castiel made a mental note to: one, take Adam to Haven soon for a trip to visit all the animals, and two, never tell Gabriel when Adam’s birthday was.  
“I’ll show you soon,” Castiel assured Adam, pleased at the wide grin he got in return.

Ellen kept the crowd at bay as Castiel led Dean, Jack, Adam, Bobby, John, Kate, Charlie, and Jo all mounted on horses and began the walk along Wayward Road that led to their new home. 

“We sure have spent a lot of time like this,” Charlie remarked, her and Jo ahead of him and Dean, Jack swaddled in a flannel carrier on Dean’s chest, and Bobby and Sam behind them.

“We sure did,” Bobby chuckled.

“Scenery sure is nicer!” Dean grinned.

“Yeah,” Charlie turned in her saddle to look back at them. “Now when we’re stopped by a group of werewolves, it’s to say hello!”

Castiel smiled at that. He had met so many kind people here. So many that were welcoming. A warm contentment settled into his chest. He looked over, watching Dean riding Impala, teasing Sam and laughing as Bobby and John teased him back. He loved every one of these people. Perfect or not. They were his family.

“You two coulda moved to Lebanon,” John remarked. “So far, all the negotiations have been voted to allow witches and nephilim in Lawrence.”

“But not any other kind of monster,” Charlie noted.

John tipped his head. “People were pretty horrified by the stories that came out of Purgatory.”

“Plenty of humans came out of Purgatory,” Jo added.

“I know,” John nodded. “Change comes slow, I guess. I’m doing all I can to strengthen ties with trade and visitation. After this election cycle is up, I’m retiring though.”

All of them gave John a surprised look, besides Kate, who just smiled at him fondly. 

“You’re gonna retire?” Dean asked.

“Yep. I’m old! I got a grandkid to spoil!” John laughed.

“And,” Kate prompted.

“And Kate and I would prefer Adam grow up near his family.”

“We’re gonna move here?” Adam said, stunned, making Wisconsin step sideways.

“In a few years,” John nodded.

“YES!” Adam cheered, cantering ahead of them, whooping and hollering.

“It isn’t perfect here,” Charlie warned. “I just settled a nasty dispute this morning between a witch cursing a her neighbor, a skinwalker, with rabies.” She shook her head. “Lucky for them I had a cure.”

John nodded. “If I’ve learned anything over this past year, it’s that there are good and bad people in ALL peoples. You just gotta surround yourself with the good kind. Whatever kind that is.”

Castiel actually, truly grinned at John. Apparently even the bad could turn good.

They rounded the final bend in the road, Charlie and Jo splitting to allow Dean his first full look at their new home. His love did everything he hoped he would. He was stunned. Shocked into silence as his green eyes widened and his mouth dropped, one hand protectively holding Jack to his chest.

“Cas!”

Castiel grinned, thrilled to his core that he and Dean could reach a place of their own.

Dean turned to look at him, waving a finger between them. Castiel opened his grace to let Dean’s emotions flood him.

Home.

“Yes, we are,” Castiel managed to say before a tear slid down his cheek. “We are home.”

******************************************

Dean Winchester considered himself a fairly patient man. But today had been long enough. Cas had given him a tour of their new home. He loved the sweet smelling stables Impala helped design. He loved how happy she was in her new home and he couldn’t wait to fill the stalls and fields with more like her. He loved the spacious rooms and comfortable furniture Cas had thoughtfully and lovingly designed. He loved Jack’s nursery with the hand painted rainbow on the wall. He loved the ‘master suite’ that was designed exactly like the Swan Suite from the bunker, except instead of swans on everything, there were paintings of places they had been. Everything from a familiar copse of trees along Lebanon Road, to Ash Forest, to a campsite in Purgatory with blooming trees he remembered being hoisted up into when Cas was trying his hardest to prove himself. A scene of the bunker’s courtyard bustling with a vendor fair, Impala looking wild and free in a nearby field, a beach near Sunken Ties, Cas’ former palace, Bobby’s house, the table in Ellen’s apartment in Stockville with a bowl of grapes on it. Charlie’s cozy little house, a silhouette of their initial start to the trip to find his dad with Dean, Sam, and Adam riding their horses, Adam with a cat perched on his lap as the sun rose in a beautiful morning sunrise in a riot of oranges, pinks, and purples along Martin Road outside of Lebanon, a painting of the six of them getting Cas’ first sigil that Dean stared at for a good ten minutes because it was so life-like. Cas said he had created all of them with Gabriel’s help. Their family starter was set into a niche along one wall with ornate glass doors keeping it safe. And there was a bed fit for a king.

Rowena led the ceremony, held on their front lawn. The crowd was huge, but the circle that surrounded them as they exchanged their vows was everyone near and dear to him. Sam stood at his right elbow, Adam at his left. Cas had never looked more devastatingly handsome, with Gabriel at his right elbow and Samandriel at his left. Around them, his dad holding Jack, Kate, Charlie, Jo, Bobby, Ellen, Jody, Donna, Benny, Cesar, Jesse, Missouri, Rufus, Hannah, and Anna surrounded them, listening as they made their vows and exchanged their rings. Even in with the crowd around them, it felt intimate and special. And when he kissed Cas, sealing their ceremonial bond, he couldn’t wait for more.

He had eaten, drank, danced, laughed, and had a wonderful time with his family and friends. He was even polite to Samuel and his cousins that had come. He even accepted Crowley’s apology when he saw him waiting for Rowena before she left. He had been damn near dignified when he hung out with the mages and Billie. He’d had a good time with Benny and Garth. He’d met more people than he would ever manage to remember. He had even saved a dance for Krissy.

He considered it a wonderful day. 

And when he had finally had enough, he went to the one person that could wrap it all up. He weaved his way through the torch-lit lawn, hugging a tipsy Donna as he kept on moving, snagging Gabriel by the arm to pull him off to the side.

“Dude.” Dean huffed.

“Say no more!” Gabriel grinned, holding up one finger. “I know a bite-starved man when I see one.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“See you in three days, bro!” Gabriel hugged him, quickly moving on. “Sammy! Say goodnight! We’re about to blow this pony stand!”

Sam turned, eyes wide. He made his way over to Dean. “Hey! Have an awesome...break!”

Dean tried not to laugh. “Does the whole freakin’ town know I’m tryin’ to get bit?”

Sam shook his head. “No. But I can’t promise they won’t if Gabe keeps drinking wine and talking about how much he loves us all.”

Dean shook his head. “See you in few days. Unless you need anything for Jack.”

“Jack will be just fine.” He hugged him, slapping his back as the pair broke apart.

“Ladies and gents!” Gabriel called to the crowd. “I’m moving this shindig to Ellen’s! I’ll start taking people home, so get in groups by location. Let’s wish these two a merry life and love until the end of time!”

The crowd cheered and whistled as Cas came to take Dean by the hand.

“Love you!” Many of them called. “Lots of love!”

They waved and grinned until Gabriel snapped and they found themselves standing alone in their new front yard.

They both laughed, sighed, and hugged each other.

“Got any energy boosts for me?” Dean murmured into Cas’ neck.

“At the risk of shriveling into a cat, I’ll see what I can do.”

They both chuckled, kissing into a full on laugh.

“Take me to bed,” Dean groaned, feeling the energy fuel his system.

“Gladly,” Cas grinned, kissing him more passionately.

Dean held onto him as they pulled into the other plane and landed in front of their bed. Dean turned to look at it. Their sigil was burned into the huge wooden headboard.

“I meant to ask you earlier,” Dean said, only somewhat distracted as Cas began pulling his shirt off. “What is the twine going from my star to your feather?”

“You don’t recognize it?” Cas asked, deep and growly as he placed kisses on Dean’s now bare shoulder.

Dean frowned, knowing the twine looked familiar. “Where did you get that?”

“In your room at the bunker. I knew you would have saved it.” He wrapped his arms around Dean as they both stared at the sigil with twine connecting the two symbols. It was the twine he had tied around Cas’ wrist to make sure he didn’t disappear when he slept in Purgatory so long ago.

“I love this house,” Dean stated.

“I’m so glad. I do too.”

Dean turned to his husband. “I love you. And for the first time, I’m glad we waited.”

“So many things were rushed upon us,” Cas said gently, stroking his fingers down Dean’s cheek. “So many times were quick and stolen moments. I wanted this to be special. Ours. When we were both ready.”

“I’m so ready,” Dean sighed, wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck. “It is special. You were right.”

Castiel grinned. “I am right occasionally.”

“Occasionally,” Dean grinned back.

Cas kissed him, then stepped back, snapping his fingers to make a fire in the fireplace. Dean felt the familiar rush of warmth and fizzling along his skin and inside his mouth, grinning. “Show off.”

“I have to. You’re so difficult to impress.”

Dean laughed, taking Cas’ shirt off and untying his breaches as he kissed him. Their boots and socks were gone, but Cas enjoyed undressing as much as Dean did. They took each other’s remaining clothes off between kisses and climbed into their new bed.

Amongst the softest sheets Dean had ever felt, and on the best bed he had ever known, he opened his arms for Cas to lay over top of him. As good as the bed felt, Castiel felt absolutely perfect. His kisses were steady and strong, making Dean crave more and more. As he chased his mouth, sweeping his tongue against Castiel’s, he groaned at the sensation of grace that opened him and lubricated him just before Cas slid deep inside him.

Their first orgasm was slow and tender, together and an absolute act of love. It was in their bed and all human.

“That was awesome,” Dean said softly, kissing Castiel’s cheek until their mouths found each other again.

“It was,” Cas panted, ramping up his kisses, nipping and grinding his hips more roughly. His hands became firmer and Dean’s chest filled with excitement. 

“You know I’ll beg if you don’t bite me soon,” Dean muttered into the night as Cas kissed his way down Dean’s chest.

“I know you will. And I will admit I enjoy it.”

Dean chuckled, running his hands through Cas’ thick hair, gasping as his cock was taken suddenly into his husband’s mouth. “That is so good!”

“Mmmm,” Cas moaned, making Dean shutter inside with lust.

“It’s not what I want though,” Dean panted, his body betraying him by rocking into Cas’ mouth as his fingers gripped his hair. “Caaaaas...”

Dean’s body jolted with a wave of lust and love and he came hard with a noisy moan.

Castiel sucked off his dick, cleaning it of all cum before pulling off completely.

“You’re such a tease!” Dean panted, weak limbed and high.

“I love to watch you,” Castiel said, looking up his body through his thick lashes. 

“Then watch me,” Dean grinned eagerly. He pulled himself up, Cas sitting on his heels with a hungry grin. “And I wanna see you. All of you.”

Castiel pulled Dean to him, pulling them through to the other plane, the firelight shrouded in lavender as Castiel’s wings puffed thick and imposing behind him. Both men were tall kneeling, Castiel kissing Dean so hard he had to hold onto him to fight being pushed over. He pushed back with a teasing grin, his fingers combing out in both directions along the insides of Cas’ wings. Thick, black, velvety feathers filled his hands as Cas shivered, arching them protectively around Dean. Their cocks rubbed against each other as their chests pressed together, heat and love leeching from one to the other. A wave of possessiveness rushed through Dean as Castiel’s teeth grazed his neck, nipping and kissing. Dean arched his neck over, moaning into the feelings as he raked through Cas’ wings again.

“I want you to bite me,” Dean panted, pressing into Cas, a thrill so strong his dick was aching and dribbling as Castiel’s fingers raked down Dean’s back and growl rumbled deep in his chest. “Make me yours, Cas,” he mumbled, gasping as his teeth bit a little more firmly, his blood pumping so hard he felt light headed.

Castiel licked over the spot he had been biting. “You are mine.”

Dean eased back as Cas cradled him. Dean opened his eyes, awe filling him as Castiel’s eyes glowed bright. This was happening. They were finally finishing the last steps to be bonded completely. Castiel was all power and might, his wings bristling, his eyes flaring, and his teeth sharper than they should be.

Dean sat up as Cas’ arms gave him room to do so. He was in afraid of the sheer power that pulsed through his nephilim. 

Castiel kissed him gently before turning him around. Dean shook with anticipation, pressing his back firmly against Castiel’s chest. He gripped the wings in front of him as Cas pressed him forward, his growl rumbling all around him. He dropped to his elbows, stretching and arching as Cas ran his hands firmly up his sides, raking back down to grip his ass, spreading him wide.

He gasped when Cas bent, licking him over his hole with greedy groan.

“Oh fuck, Cas! You know that drives me crazy!” He gasped, feeling his tongue plunder inside him. He was wrecked, falling apart, shaking, moaning, gripping feathers so tightly he knew it had to border on painful.

“Caaas! Pleeease!”

He sucked in a gasp as the tongue withdrew, holding on as Castiel knelt to his full height behind him, shoving his cock in so hard Dean damn near saw stars. “YES!” He gasped, Castiel’s hands never stopped moving, stroking his skin, squeezing his muscles. He thrust hard and Dean let out a shout of a plea.

“My beautiful warrior,” Castiel groaned through gritted teeth, fucking him hard and fast, Dean crying out with every thrust. His world was shrunken to black feathers, tan skin, greedy hands, and the full heat of Cas inside him. He was easily pulled up, draping back along Cas’ chest, his head thrown back as Cas reached around and stroked his cock in rhythm with the hard pulsing cock in his ass.

“Cas!” Dean cried out.

Castiel’s wings grazed his thighs, stroked over the head of his cock as Castiel began dragging his mouth hungrily along Dean’s neck.

“Oooooohhhh fuck!” Dean gasped, every inch of him bathed in sprite. The wings stroked harder over his throbbing, red head as Cas gnawed gently on the spot on his neck that throbbed with an ache Dean had never felt before. It was as if his very body was calling for Castiel’s bite. 

“I taste you,” Castiel gasped. “Your cum on my feathers!” Castiel’s cock throbbed, his hand stroked and Dean arched, crying out in an orgasm that whited out his vision.

“God, you taste so good!” Castiel gasped, cum spraying in ropes into his wings.

A shock of lust made Dean nearly burst in two as another orgasm hit before the first had finished. Heat flooded inside him and pain blossomed from his neck as Castiel’s teeth sunk deep and firm. Dean cried out in a haze of absolute pleasure and a spike of pain. His scream died out as he went limp in Castiel’s arms. Tears ran harder than ever as he stared wide-eyed up into the arch of feathers above and around him. His breath left him as Castiel’s teeth withdrew, another wave of bliss flooding him. He hung in Castiel’s arms, coming again as his body rocked automatically and his mind shorted out. Castiel’s growl rumbled behind him, vibrating against his back as his tongue licked with a cooling sensation, healing his skin. His head rocked against Castiel’s shoulder as he hung there helpless and completely overwhelmed. The black wings parted, wrapping around him like a blanket of love as Cas still held him tight, kissing his neck and cheek and ear.

“Dean,” he whispered, calling him from the depths of his grace. “Dean.”

Dean took a long, shaky breath, life filling him from his core to the tips of his fingers, toes, and ears. He hugged Cas’ arms, nuzzling into the kisses until their mouths found each other.

There was not a word for the love he had for Cas. It was so complete, inside his soul, deep in his heart.

“Cas...I love you,” he said softly, letting Cas turn him so they faced each other again, Cas laying him down, cradling onto one wing as the other draped over them like a blanket.

“I love you,” Cas whispered back, kissing him sweetly. “Beyond the end of time.”

Dean nodded. “Same,” he whispered, kissing him. They lay wrapped in his wings until both could breathe easily again.

“Shall we go to bed?” Castiel asked, lifting Dean’s hand to kiss it.

“Yeah. Been waiting all my life to sleep in that bed. Our bed.”

Castiel grinned with pride and love as they left the plane and snuggled deep into the blankets, tight together.

“I’m never sleeping without you again,” Dean swore. “Never again.”

Castiel grinned, kissing his shoulder. “Never again.”

TIME STAMP

THREE YEARS LATER

Farmington Hills

Castiel ran his hand over the swollen belly. “It won’t be long. The baby should be here by the end of the month.”

“Guess it’s a race,” Dean grinned, patting Impala’s neck. “Who’s gonna pop first, me or you?” Impala nibbled Dean’s shirt sleeve, then nudged him a step closer to Cas.

“What are you going to name her?” Sam asked.

Dean ran a hand over his own swollen belly. “Might be a him. What is a baby impala? A cub? Cubby. Black lightning. Impala’s Revenge!”

“It’s a girl,” Gabriel said casually. “I can already hear her smart little mind.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked, staring at Gabe.

“Yup. It’s a girl.”

Dean met his horse’s black eyes. “What does Impala say we should name her?”

Castiel listened, Impala looking at him for a long moment before turning to nuzzle her mouth along Dean’s cheek, making him laugh and pet her soft, sleek muzzle.

Castiel grinned, turning to Dean. “She says ‘baby’. It’s what you often call her.”

“Aw!” Dean kissed her nose. “That’s perfect! My baby’s baby.”

“You guys make me nauseous,” Gabe groaned, walking away from the stall.

Dean smirked at Impala. “Ignore him. He’s cranky.”

“Damn right I’m cranky,” Gabe sniped. “My skin itches, my back hurts. I can’t get enough sweet beans dipped in mustard to save my life. And I’m pretty sure my dick shriveled up and died.”

Sam put an arm around him. “You’re as handsome as ever. And your dick is just fine.”

They walked out of the barn, heading toward the house. “I’m totally gonna beat all of you,” Dean bragged, putting an arm around Cas. 

“It’s not a race, Dean,” Cas chuckled. “All three of you will deliver in your own time.”

Dean turned, smirking at Gabe. “Slow poke.”

“I will fry you,” Gabe taunted back. “Like a strip of bacon on cast iron.”

“Nice visual!” Dean laughed. “And you know damn well I’m like a sirloin.”

“Cha!” Gabe snorted. “Beef jerky, maybe.”

“Guys!” Sam and Cas yelled.

Dean glanced back at Sam. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam laughed.

“Such name calling!” Kate chided as they all took seats around the patio table. “What kind of example is that to your son and nephew?”

Jack grinned up at them from his seat where he ate a huge cookie, dunking it in milk.

“That looks good,” Gabe sighed, snapping his fingers. Five stacks of cookies popped onto the table and a cow appeared standing next to it.

“Ugh! I can’t WAIT until my grace is back to normal!” Gabe whined, slumping in defeat.

They all laughed, Jack reaching over to pet the cow that stood there looking confused.

“I’ll get you some milk,” Kate laughed, going inside.

“Thank you!” Gabe called, pouting up at Sam. “Why is my grace so outta whack?”

Sam chuckled, leaning over to kiss him. “I don’t know. Maybe our baby is gonna be very powerful.”

“Or a trickster,” Dean grinned. “You so kinda deserve that, Gabe.”

“Me?! I am the epitome of grace and power!”

“Okay,” Sam laughed, patting his hand.

“I am,” Gabe pouted. “And I really need some sweet beans.” He snapped before anyone could stop him, furry sweet bean bushes sprouting all over the patio.

“Gabriel!” They all yelled.

“Sorry!” He leaned over, pulling several colorful beans from the nearest bush as the cow took two lumbering steps and began to graze on one. He popped a red and a blue bean in his mouth, winking at Jack. “Not sorry,” he whispered, Jack laughing.

Kate stopped in her tracks, looking at the patio in utter confusion. “Gabriel, really.” She brought him the milk with a scolding grin. “You really are a menace.”

“What the blazes?” Bobby said, stepping up onto the patio, staring around at the bushes. He met Gabe’s guilty stare. “Boy, you better have that baby soon.”

Gabe sighed, taking the cookie Kate handed him. “Charlie says six weeks or so.”

“I’m glad I don’t have freaky power outages,” Dean sighed, stretching back in the chair as his knees fell wide.

“Oh, tell them how you got dressed this morning,” Cas grinned knowingly, teasing his husband.

Dean sat up looking excited. “Dude! I got out of the shower, dried off and wished I was already dressed and BAM! My clothes were on!”

Sam’s mouth gaped. “You had magic?”

“Grace!” Dean corrected. “Dude, it just happened!”

“Guess both these babies will be powerful,” Sam said in awe. “I already told Gabe that when we’re ready for baby number two, I’m carrying it. I hope I get to experience something like that! I’ll have to look into it at the library.”

“You are going to have a baby too?” Jack asked, stretching an arm out to tip a cookie off one of the stacks, taking it.

“Some day,” Sam grinned at him.

“Me too!” Jack insisted.

Murmurs broke out around the table as Jack crammed his cookie into his cup.

“You’re not even allowed to date,” Dean assured him. “Not until you’re like...forty.”

“That’ll be fun,” Gabe grinned, winking at Dean, who flipped him off, Cas gently shoving his hand from view of their very observant son.

“I better head to the Stacks,” Sam sighed, pushing back from the table, standing. 

“I’ll take you,” Castiel offered quickly. The last time Gabe attempted to fly somewhere, he kept ending up in the pool outside their house. While Adam thought it was hilarious the third time they splashed down, John was biting his tongue and the horses they were on were completely freaked out.

Gabe sighed again. “See you tonight,” he said, Sam leaning down to kiss him.

“I’ll be going to Tree of Life afterwards,” Cas said quietly to Dean. “One of the children there has begun to manifest grace powers along with their shape shifting.”

“Is there a problem?” Dean asked quietly, trying to keep that kind of conversation from Jack’s ears, who had yet to break the binding spell Charlie and Rowena had put on him three years ago.

“No,” Cas grinned, kissing him. “Just checking in.”

Cas and Sam disappeared, leaving the rest of them to snack on Gabe’s cookies. Sam and Gabe spent half their day in Haven, Gabriel attending to Monday business, and Sam working at the Stacks. They were involved in nephilim business much more than Dean and Cas, which worked well for all of them.

“These are good!” Jack grinned, reaching for another.

Dean caught his hand, pulling Jack onto his disappearing lap. “Save room for real food,” he laughed, scrubbing a hand through his floppy, sandy-brown hair. Jack hugged him, just a tiny pout, reminiscent of his uncle Gabe’s.

“Will you read me and the baby a story?”

“I sure will,” Dean said, kissing the top of his head. He stood up, taking Jack by the hand. He stopped, staring at the cow that chewed happily on the sweet bean bush. “Bobby...”

“I’ll take care of the cow,” Bobby sighed. “Jus let me finish my cookies.”

*********************************************

The next full moon had Dean and Cas nervously pacing in the barn as Impala paced in her stall.

“It’s coming,” Cas whispered, taking Dean’s hand.

They watched as Impala’s head dipped down, huffing.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby girl!” Dean coached.

Bobby took a step back as a sleek, black foal dropped to the floor of the stall. Impala turned, nuzzling the newborn as it rocked.

Dean swatted a tear away, but Castiel caught it anyway.

“Come on there, baby,” Bobby coaxed, staying back to give the mother and baby room.

Baby got to her feet, clambering skittishly and staggering on wobbly legs.

“She’s beautiful, Impala!” Dean praised, coming into the stall to pet her. “You did so good! She looks just like you!”

“Hello, Baby,” Cas grinned, crouching to welcome the newborn as it blinked around at the world. While they had many foals born here, and this was no longer new to any of them, it was Impala’s first.

“You made that look so easy, girl,” Dean huffed, patting her as he stared down at his own feet. “Oh shit.”

Cas glanced over at Dean, noticing his wet pants. His eyes jumped up to meet Dean’s wide ones. “Did your water just break?”

“Yeah! Or I just keep pissing myself!”

Castiel stood up slowly. He should not be as shocked as he was, but it was still shocking to think it was time. It was time! “Dean!”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed, making an uncomfortable face as he waddled out of the stall. “I pissed in my boots!”

“It ain’t piss,” Bobby warned him, steadying Dean as Cas steadied him from the other side.

Dean glanced between the two of them, making a disgusted face. “Oh this is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

Castiel grinned tightly. “You are strong. It is going to be an amazing and beautiful thing.”

More liquid splattered to the floor, all three men looking down at Dean’s feet. “Beautiful, my ass! We better go!”

Castiel gripped Dean’s arm steadily. “Bobby, I’ll be back. Will you have Jack ready to go in an hour?”

“Sure!” Bobby blanched, looking slightly pale. “I’ll get Charlie and Jo! And Gabe and Sam!” His eyes went wide. “I gotta tell Ellen!”

“Thank you.”

“Can you clean me up first?” Dean huffed, rubbing a hand over his firm belly, wincing.

Castiel snapped his fingers, Dean now clean and wearing soft pants. 

Castiel flew them to Samandriel’s palace, where a suite was ready and waiting for Dean. An abettor in the hall noted their sudden appearance with a startled squeal.

“Mage of Days!” She bowed low. “Dean the Defier!”

“Dean the dumbass,” Dean groaned, another contraction gripping him harder.

“Please inform Raphael and Samandriel that we have arrived. It is time,” Castiel said in a rush, ushering Dean into the suite.

“Nice,” Dean smirked, taking in the fancy furniture. “Is that a fountain? In my room?”

Castiel ignored his human husband’s indignation as he pulled back blankets on the bed. “You should lay down!”

“Lay down?” Dean scoffed. “Impala didn’t lay down.”

“Dean.”

Dean blew out a breath, cringing at the next contraction that came much harder than the last one. “I’m good! I’m just gonna...walk around for a while.”

Castiel fretted. He fret every step of the dangerous undertaking they had agreed upon. He kept a calm facade as Dean quickly progressed from pacing and swearing, allowing one of Raphael’s abettor’s to examine him before he was up and pacing again.

“He is dilating quickly,” Rachel said. “This may go rather fast.”

“That’s good!” Dean groaned, doubling over as a contraction hit. “So good,” he growled.

Castiel exchanged a worried look with Rachel as Gabriel, Sam, Bobby, and Jack arrived, walking in with stunned looks on their faces.

“How did you get here?” Castiel asked, horrified that Gabriel would attempt to bring so many when his powers were so unpredictable.

“I brought them,” Billie grinned from the door. “All the psychics in Lily Dale warned me this might happen tonight.”

Castiel turned, stunned.

“Good luck,” she winked, stepping out of the room. Her powers were a mystery. All he and Gabriel could guess was that she was more than just a nephilim. For one thing, she had no lineage to trace and seemed to have been in Haven since the beginning of its creation, leading them to wonder if she weren’t actually an angel. Or even something more.

“Dean, maybe you should lay down,” Sam encouraged, offering his brother a cool washcloth.

“No! I’m good!” Dean paced back and forth along the big room.

“Castiel!” Samandriel exclaimed from the doorway. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas admitted, watching Dean nervously.

“Caaaaaaas!” Dean groaned through gritted teeth. 

Castiel rushed across the room, steering Dean toward the bed again. “You need to lay down.”

“Oh, this is gonna suck, suck, suck,” Dean panted.

Sixteen hours later, Dean rested comfortably in the bed, cradling their new baby girl. Emma. Jack snuggled up to Dean’s side, watching the new baby with a tender grin. Castiel held his family, lying in the bed with them.

“I’m so proud of you, Dean,” Cas mumbled, kissing Dean’s head as he stroked the satin-smooth skin of Emma’s cheek.

Nephilim whisked around the room, tidying things, cleaning, and making Sam and Gabe comfortable in beds in an adjacent room. Jack and Cas drifted off to sleep on either side of him and Dean basked in the incredible feeling of their new family of four.

Dean was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop staring at the new baby he and Cas had created. Of all the magical, miraculous things he had been witness to, and they had been many, Emma was by far the most amazing.

He looked up, hearing a soft noise by the door. Gabriel peeked into the room. 

“Hey,” Dean said softly.

Gabe waved, watching the baby in Dean’s arms.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean grinned.

Gabe came across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at Emma with a sweet grin. “She’s perfect.”

“You okay?” Dean asked, watching as Emma grunted, pulling her legs up as one arm stretched out.

“Yeah!” Gabe whispered.

“It sucked,” Dean smirked. “But it was doable.”

“Doable,” Gabe nodded.

“Hey,” Dean bumped Gabe with his knee. “You got this.”

Gabe nodded again, smiling weakly. “I just hope I don’t, ya know, zap into outer space or end up in the ocean when this kid decides to come.”

Dean nodded. “Cas’ll find you. There’s nowhere he wouldn’t go chase you down.”

Gabe nodded with a real grin this time. “You’re doin’ good now?” Gabe asked again.

“Doin’ great,” Dean assured him.

Gabe nodded. “It’s gonna suck though.”

“For a few hours,” Dean chuckled.

“I got that,” Gabe shrugged.

“You definitely got that.”

“We’ll all be there for you too, brother,” Castiel said softly, surprising the pair.

Gabriel blushed, nodding.

**************************************

Seven Years Later

New Harmony

“Well, hey there, Your Highness!” Garth grinned, stepping forward to hug Dean, like the guy always did. He was a hugger, and Dean had learned to accept it.

“It’s just Dean,” Dean insisted.

Garth guffawed, waving him off, like he always did. “Your Highness!” He went on cheerily, hugging Cas, giving Jack, Emma, and Mary all high-fives. “Your seats are up on the stage!”

Dean sighed with a grin, taking Emma’s hand as Cas led the way carrying Mary.

“Your Highness!” Dean heard Garth go on, greeting Gabe, Sam, and their children, Charles and Loki.

They took their seats, looking out over the park with unease, as they always did when they were here. The park that had once housed Michael’s final public display of insanity and Dean’s defied death, was now a memorial to the war. A line of nephilim-formed statues lined the far end of the field, depicting one of every kind of people. What used to be a large stretch of grass, was now a memorial garden.

Dean’s eyes lingered on the pole that still stood there. And though he couldn’t see it for all the people gathered, the chain still hung limply with the broken cuff on the ground. The Defier’s Last Stand, the plague read. 

It still freaked Dean out.

But the garden was visited by all peoples all year long. It was a way to share the tale of what one hate-filled leader could do. Sunday had been deemed a day of kindness. A day to amend any grievances you created over the week. A day to carry out a random act of kindness. A day to remember that kindness, love, and acceptance are what won the War of the Peoples. Though many debated the vital roles they had played, Gabriel’s insight, Dean’s bravery, Sam’s aim, Charlie’s resistance, Jo’s unyielding faith, Bobby’s loyalty, Adam’s trust, or Castiel’s love, it was agreed that what changed the tide of a potential genocide was the willingness to come together.

Castiel shifted Mary on his lap, leaning over to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Emma wants to stay at John and Kate’s tonight. I told her that was fine.”

Dean nodded, giving his daughter a wink. She bounced in her seat, grinning wide.

“Uncle Bobby!” Emma, Mary, Loki, and Charles cheered, spying their uncle slip into the crowd at the front of the stage. 

“Hey munchkins!” Bobby grinned, waving for Charles and Emma to wait in their seats for him to come up on the stage to sit with them.

“Hey!” Rufus grinned, waving at all of them.

“Hi, Rufus,” they all chorused.

Dean had to laugh. “I’ll be damned! Bobby drug Rufus to People’s Day!”

Castiel grinned. “He gave us shelter on that fateful trip. It only seems fair he endure this once in a while.”

Dean scoffed. “He says it ruins his hardass cred with the werewolves out his way.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “There hasn’t been a werewolf attack in six years.”

“Thanks to Rufus, Rufus would tell you,” Dean smirked.

“I wrote a poem,” Jack proclaimed proudly to Donna, when she joined the stage next.

“You did?! Well, I sure as punch am proud of you!” She hugged him, kissing the top of his head.

“It’s about how the peoples saved all of us kids from Purgatory. And later, a bunch of the hybrids are putting on a talent show!”

Donna gave him a proud grin, cupping his cheek. “You sure as shootin’ put the sparkle in yer daddy’s eyes, I can assure you that.”

Jack grinned, scooting back in his seat as he gave Dean a nervous grin. “Maybe next year I can be in the show with the other hybrids!”

“I’m sure,” Dean nodded. Jack had burst through his binding last winter when he fell from his horse and broke his arm. Then promptly healed it. It had shocked him so bad that he scared all the horses away and had to walk back to the house with one very confused Emma beside him. Emma and Mary both demonstrated signs of grace power, but nothing like their father. Charles was by far the most unpredictable lately. His grace was strong. He could move things and create things, keeping Gabe and Sam constantly on their toes. So far, Loki seemed just as adept as Charles, but he was much more quiet and reserved, with Sam’s curiosity and patience. But they were all still young. Jack was ten, Emma and Charles were seven, Loki six, and Mary was four. Jack was being introduced (and tested) to his powers by Cas, Gabe, and Sam. Dean reserved his parenting solely for kid stuff. The only thing he asked was that Jack not use his powers at all until Cas and Uncle Gabe and Sam said it was okay. He hoped Jack could just be a little boy for as long as possible.

Dean grinned as Adam strolled confidently onto the stage with John and Kate. He was a teenager now, getting long, gangly legs and his voice was cracking like crazy. He was mild-mannered like Sam, had John’s stubbornness, and Dean’s sense of humor. The kid was growing up to be a great guy. And now that John was retired, they had just moved to Farmington Hills to join the rest of them. They had taken many trips over the years to Lawrence, which had finally passed laws allowing all peoples to live and travel there, as long as they abided by the laws set in place regarding no peoples of any kind were permitted to be killed for any reason, especially not for consumption. It had taken several years, but Freeland’s laws were adopted by Lawrence, making the two countries much more alike than they had ever been before. And Crowley kept a tight rein on travel to and from Purgatory, all side deals ceasing to exist thanks to close supervision by Freeland’s High Witch (and his mother) Rowena.

“Hey there, brotha!” 

Dean scanned the crowd, finding Benny amongst a group of visiting vampires. Dean waved, grinning when Benny tipped his hat in acknowledgement. He had tried to move to Freeland a few years ago, but returned to the wilds of Purgatory to keep legislating for vampire-kind to go completely animal in diet. Their numbers dwindled every year. Dean wondered if some day the world would forget vampires ever existed. The history books (at least the ones Sam wrote) would convey the importance of Benjamin Lafitte and his heroic stand to work with humans rather than join the demons and Leviathan. And maybe Benny would be there to prove it, but the guy lived a dangerous life, still committed to his cause. Purgatory was improving. The land was better, providing much more workable crop source and was full of wildlife, thanks to the endless work of the nephilim. Commerce was improving and the towns were all much more hospitable than before. Dean had traveled there with Cas several times over the years, speaking to various councils on Benny’s request. The country was improving, but humans were still considered fair food in the wilder areas, keeping most humans away.

The Winchesters all stood to hug Adam, Kate, and John as they took their places on stage beside them, Mary insisting on sitting with Adam, who she adored above all other people. 

“Dean, Cas,” John grinned, hugging them. 

“Dad,” Sam said quietly, stepping aside. “Did you read the speech I wrote you?”

“Sure did.” He pulled the paper out of his pocket, putting his reading glasses on. “Sounds great.” He smirked mirthfully at Sam, in earshot of Garth. “This is my last speech, since I’m RETIRED.”

Garth bit his lip, turning the other way, ignoring him as Sam chuckled. “You’re never getting out of giving speeches, Dad.”

John sighed, sitting down. “I just wanna farm. Got two more llamas yesterday!”

“Oh! Can I name them?” Charles asked.

“I wanna name one!” Loki insisted, a rarity for the quiet boy.

“Me too!” Emma called.

“I might need more llamas,” John sighed.

“We do NOT need any more llamas,” Kate insisted, laughing.

“Grammie,” Emma countered. “They keep Grandpa busy!”

“Oh really?!” John laughed, Kate, Dean, and Sam chuckling too.

“That is true. I suppose one or two more might be alright,” Kate relented.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Garth began, the crowd quieting to listen. “We are gathered here today on this beautiful Peoples Day, to celebrate together.” The crowd applauded before quieting again. Dean took Cas’ hand as he sat back, listening to Mayor Fitzgerald go on. “Today we look around and see a world still rebuilding itself from the brink of an unthinkable path. We learn from the past, the events that have shaped us and our towns, our world even, so our future can be one our children look forward to. A future where all peoples are equal and free. Safe and harmonious.” Garth grinned around at the crowd. “I’m proud of the people behind me that helped bring us all together here today. They took a frightening situation and handled it with grace.”

Dean grinned as a wave of love and pride infused him. He turned to Cas, nodding his head in an unspoken permission to read his thoughts. Cas, his eyes no longer troubled as they used to be, were blue and bright and full of hope and laughter every day, met his. He watched as Cas’ cheeks warmed and his little smile grew. Love, pride, partner, mine, happy, all rushed from Dean.

It seemed like only yesterday they were seeing Cas use his grace for the first time. It also seemed like a lifetime ago. Cas must have read those thoughts too. He turned the hand on his lap palm up, sparks dancing weakly above his hand. Dean chuckled, squeezing the hand he held. “Easy, sparky. No need to show off. You got the boy in the end.”

Castiel grinned harder, the sparks whirling into a tiny ball of flame. “I sure did.”

<3 The End <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Shelz! You are a tireless cheerleader! So much love to you!  
> Special thanks to my WIP squad who fed me with so much energy and love along the way!  
> Thank you all for reading!


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